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Content note: Nothing significant. If you notice anything tag-worthy that's not in here, though, please mention it in a comment.

The entrance to SCP-5459.

Item #: SCP-5459
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: The entrance to SCP-5459 is to be sealed off and declared an unsafe area.
Negotiations with SCP-5459's inhabitants are in the preliminary stages; SCP-5459-2 have been declared to speak for the entire island. Topics such as allowing limited numbers of Foundation personnel to set up residence and study the island,1 better education of the inhabitants2 and the provision of aid in the form of food and other resources3 have been put forth by personnel making first contact, whilst SCP-5459-2 have requested the change of their designation to SCP-5459-1, which they believe is more suitable.4
Description: SCP-5459 is an island only accessible through a tor in Dartmoor National Park.5 The island has a warm climate, particularly in relation to the location of its entrance, and a surface area of approximately two square kilometres. Foundation personnel have as of yet been unable to pinpoint the precise whereabouts of SCP-5459, and no other landmasses are in visual range.
Two settlements are present on SCP-5459: a small town on the lowered region to the east, population three hundred and seven, and a settlement on the raised west of the island, population seventy four. The town inhabitants,6 designated SCP-5459-1, are non-anomalous, and have an SCP designation for the sake of convenience. The people in the settlement7 are henceforth referred to as SCP-5459-2.
SCP-5459-2 display abilities beyond the normal capabilities of humans, including enhanced strength and stamina, a lack of need for sleep, and the ability to levitate up to three metres off the ground.8 The source of this is unknown, but is believed to relate to a tree that grows in a courtyard at the centre of the settlement, which grows an unidentified fruit consumed by them. SCP-5459-2 are reluctant to allow any access to outsiders; though they are picked by SCP-5459-1, none have yet attempted to consume them. Negotiations to allow Foundation personnel access for the sake of testing have proceeded poorly as of time of writing.
The civilisation is based mostly on agriculture, with fields of wheat and corn located on the east of the island. Science and technology is limited, SCP-5459 being mostly pre-industrialisation. Much of the labour on the island is performed by SCP-5459-1; SCP-5459-2 claim an estimated ninety-five percent of the products,9 with the remainder being used as payment to the workers, who decide for themselves how to distribute it to one another. Despite this, the "downers" bear no ill will towards the "uppers," and in fact many hold them in great regard, with parasocial relationships common. Investigation into a potential mind-affecting anomaly relating to SCP-5459-2 is ongoing.
Addendum 17: Interviews were conducted with every willing inhabitant of the island during early contact. Several are included below.
Addendum 18: Interview Log 1

Interviewed: Stanley Baxter, an instance of SCP-5459-2
Interviewer: Researcher Julian Farnsworth
<BEGIN LOG>
Farnsworth: And we're recording. If you'd like to state your name for the record?
Baxter: Certainly! Stanley Windsor Baxter, at your service.
Farnsworth: Thank you. Now, if we can get started, I'd very much like to know when your anomalous effects first manifested.
Baxter: Oh, well, that would have to be when I turned eighteen. Yes, on the stroke of my ascent to manhood.
Farnsworth: And how did this happen?
Baxter: My dear fellow, one struggles to find the words to explain it to one such as yourself. The shivering, burning ecstasy rippling through your body, as though on course to rend it asunder, the knowledge that you are headed for something greater, the… the satisfaction at knowing you have accomplished the impossible. That you've made it.
Farnsworth: When you say "accomplished," does that mean you activate the anomaly yourselves? There's a process, or ritual, or something?
Baxter: [laughs] You make it sound like a PhD, old sport! No, you simply require certain attributes. An aptitude for leadership, intelligence, a true dedication to a craft. You need to be the right sort of person. The sort who applies himself, willing to put in the hard work. No lazy old idiot has a chance. It has to be innate. It's something you're born with, something inescapably tied to your soul.
I actually give talks to the dross- er, the downers, demonstrating just how they too can achieve our greatness if they just apply themselves. You should come along! You'd fit right in!
Farnsworth: …I'm sure. So, it's all about the drive of the person, that's what activates the effect? Not the fruit in the courtyard?
Baxter: …well, that does, of course, have some effect, but really it's about-
Farnsworth: When did you first eat the fruit?
Baxter: I don't see how-
Farnsworth: Let me hazard a guess; was it when you turned eighteen, by any chance?
Baxter: …I will not be insulted like this! You can't keep me here! You're not the right sort!
<END LOG>
Closing statement: Baxter refused to answer any further questions.

Addendum 33: Interview Log 16

Interviewed: Helena Choudhury, an instance of SCP-5459-2. Choudhury is highly regarded by many of the "downers" for her charitable endeavours and overall pleasant reputation.
Interviewer: Researcher Farnsworth
<BEGIN LOG>
Farnsworth: We're on. Your name, please? For the record?
Choudhury: Helena. Er, Helena Choudhury, sorry.
Farnsworth: Alright. When did this anomaly begin?
Choudhury: For me, it was about when I turned eighteen.
Farnsworth: What happened?
Choudhury: Honestly, Mr. Farnsworth, I just got lucky. I was never very confident growing up. Always shy, never confident, too scared to talk to any of the other kids. [she laughs] I felt like I had nothing. I think, that sort of… strengthened me. Life was hard for me, but it toughened me up. Taught me what I needed to be.
Farnsworth: Which was?
Choudhury: Grateful. Grateful for what I did have. Looking at the downers… they have it so hard. Life is so hard, and difficult, and painful for them. I think they teach you to never take what you have for granted, Mr. Farnsworth.
Farnsworth: And that's what you say it is? A state of mind?
Choudhury: That's a nice way to think about it. I suppose eating the fruit when I turned eighteen helped, but really you have to have the will to carry on. To survive. To pick yourself back up when you fall.
Farnsworth: …you suppose?
Choudhury: I'm sorry?
Farnsworth rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands.
Farnsworth: You can pick up a rock the size of a Mini Cooper without straining. You can literally fly. I suppose "the will to carry on" is stronger than I gave it credit for.
Choudhury: I'm sorry, but I really just think you can't understand, Mr. Farnsworth. Maybe it's just not in your nature.
<END LOG>
Closing statement: None.

Addendum 80: Interview Log 74

Interviewed: Robert Harlow, an instance of SCP-5459-1
Interviewer: Researcher Farnsworth
<BEGIN LOG>
Farnsworth: Okay, what's your name?
Harlow: I'm - sorry, are you alright?
Farnsworth: [massaging temples] Sorry, just… bit of a migraine. Anyway, name, please?
Harlow: Uh, Robert. Robert Harlow.
Farnsworth: Yeah. And you don't have any anomalous effects, right?
Harlow: No, sir. Just your average Joe, me.
Farnsworth: Mm. So, you're one of the fruit pickers, is that right?
Harlow: That's right. It's hard work, but someone's gotta do it.
Farnsworth: Oh? And why does that someone have to be you?
Harlow: I don't know what you mean, sir.
Farnsworth: I mean, it's a hot island. Fruit picking is harder work than a lot of people give credit for, and especially under the circumstances, why does it have to be you?
Harlow: Well, who else would it be?
Farnsworth: The uppers?
Harlow: [laughs] No chance.
Farnsworth: Why not? They have abilities, stamina, they're far more - without disrespect, Mr. Harlow, they're far more physically capable than you are. Besides, it's not as if you're getting any of the fruit, why should you do the work for no reward?
Harlow: You're joking, right? What a load of utter bollocks. They don't do it because they deserve it. They've worked so hard, they've gotten where they are through - through hard work, through strength. Anyway, maybe if I work hard enough, I'll deserve it, too, I'll earn it.
Farnsworth: Oh, come on, you don't honestly believe that, do you?
Harlow: Why shouldn't I?
Farnsworth: There are hundreds of people living there! Of that, there's what, seventy uppers? How many of them came from the downers? Any?
Harlow: Hey, Francesca was one of us originally!
Farnsworth: But it's rare, isn't it? Once in a generation, one lucky person gets picked, that right?
Harlow: You… [he shakes his head] You just don't get it. I believe I have a chance, I have to.
Farnsworth: [groans] Do you? Do you really?
Harlow: [slams hands on table] Damn straight! I mean, er, [at normal volume] sorry, sir.
There is a brief pause.
Harlow: It's just… I have a husband. Two kids. Benny and Sunita, their names are, Benny and Sunita. And me and him - me and Vinay, I mean, we both work, he works on the wheat farms. Twelve hours a day, we work, five days a week, it's - it's boiling, and backbreaking, and -
Harlow sighs.
Harlow: We don't have time for anything. We're out so long, and when we get home we're just so… we're tired. I never get to be with my kids, he and I - we don't do anything anymore, and I mean anything - er, not that you want to hear about that, sir.
Farnsworth: But don't you want to be able to do what you love, with the people you love? Wouldn't that make you happier? Seems to me there's one major cause of problems on this island.
Harlow: You really don't get it, do you? I - look, maybe you were right, about it being one person in a generation who gets to ascend, but that could be me.
Farnsworth: You can't really be that deluded.
Harlow: You call it deluded, I call it faithful. You don't live here, you've only just arrived, you don't get to judge me just because you think I'm stupid - no, don't deny it, I can see it clear as day. I could be the next Francesca, and I could live the dream, with my family. I know that, we all know that. If I just work hard enough, do things right, I can make it, I know I can.
<END LOG>
Closing statement: Shortly following this interview, Harlow and his husband began working longer hours.

Addendum 122: Interview Log 109

Interviewed: Taryn Hobbs, an instance of SCP-5459-2
Interviewer: Researcher Farnsworth
<BEGIN LOG>
Farnsworth: [sighs] Name.
Hobbs: Taryn Hobbs. A pleasure to make your-
Farnsworth: Yeah, sure. When did your… uh, the thing start?
Hobbs: Thinking about it, I suppose it was around when I turned eighteen?
Farnsworth: Sure. What happened?
Hobbs: Well, I think it's all about one thing, you see-
Farnsworth: [head in hands] Let me have a guess; it's all because you're amazing, talented and brilliant people who've worked hard to hone your gifts, you have great kindness and strength, keep getting up whenever you're knocked back, and it's absolutely nothing to do with being born next to a giant tree with fruit that gives you superpowers which you won't share with anyone.
Hobbs: …what makes you say that?
Farnsworth: [muffled] Just a hunch.
Hobbs: Well, actually, I wasn't going to say that at all.
Farnsworth's hands slide down his face, so that his eyes are uncovered. He stares blearily at Hobbs.
Farnsworth: Oh? Go on, then, what's the big secret?
Hobbs: Well, personally, I think we're just better than you.
<END LOG>

Footnotes
1. Currently under consideration by SCP-5459-2.
2. Currently opposed by SCP-5459-2, believing it unnecessary.
3. Currently opposed by SCP-5459-2, citing interference overstepping the mark from a neutral organisation in the Foundation, as well as damaging motivation and self-esteem amongst the town-dwellers.
4. This is to be rejected.
5. Cornwall, England.
6. Colloquially referred to as "downers."
7. Known as "uppers."
8. The longest any instance of SCP-5459-2 has been observed to maintain flight is four hours, as part of a competition for the entertainment of SCP-5459-1
9. The reason for this is unclear, given that SCP-5459-2 are not currently believed to require sustenance due to their anomalous properties.


Item #: SCP-5460
Object Class: Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: All recovered documentation and schematics pertaining to SCP-5460 are to be kept in a high-security document storage container within the storage wing of Site-64.
Description: SCP-5460 was a prototype telepathy facilitation device created by Anderson Robotics between 2019 and the device's eventual destruction during the joint UIU/Foundation raid on May 24th, 2024. Recovered notes indicate the primary function of the device was to improve synergy and communication among linked individuals to facilitate more efficient teamwork.
Documentation and schematics recovered from Anderson Robotics World Headquarters indicate that SCP-5460 consisted of a primary console and a series of up to ten headsets. Upon activation of the device, individuals wearing the headsets would be able to telepathically communicate with one another over a range of 5 km. Records indicate that this link could be terminated remotely at any time via SCP-5460's console. The extent of the information capable of being transmitted via SCP-5460's telepathic link is currently unknown, though documentation has confirmed visual and auditory stimuli could be sent with variable degrees of accuracy.
Recovered emails, audio files, and video from the Anderson Robotics Research and Development team suggest that the technology used in SCP-5460 was reverse-engineered from a previously existing Maxwellist platform utilized within the Three Portlands Maxwellist community.1 An investigation into this technology, and potential acquisition for Foundation study by MTF Tau-51 ("Urban Brawl") and MTF Mu-4 ("Debuggers"), is currently ongoing.
Proposals for attempts to rebuild SCP-5460 based upon recovered schematics and documentation are currently pending Ethics Committee review.
Addendum 5460-A: Recovered Documents 5460-03 and -011
The following logs were recovered from the workstation of Elanor MacKenzie, a member of the Anderson Robotics Research and Development Team, and the primary developer of SCP-5460 from the project's inception in 2019.

Notice to Quelea Series Development Staff

Greetings everyone,
I'm very excited to have been selected by Vincent and Dr. Contos to lead this project. The tech we are going to be developing is unlike anything AR has worked on before, and I'm pleased to have such a great team to work with.
Here is the development of the Quelea Series.
Elanor

Quelea Series Team Communication System Development Log

Quelea v1.0: 04/01/2019

Successful linking of four users.
Maximum distance of 1 km.
Maximum linkage time of 90 minutes.

Quelea v1.1: 03/03/2019

Fixed issue of electric shock during thought transmission.
Image transmission successfully rendered in 2D.

Quelea v1.2: 12/09/2019

Maximum linkage time extended up to 3 hours.
Fixed issue of gestalt gross motor control.
Fixed issue of pelvic splanchnic synchronizations.

Quelea v1.3: 10/12/2019

Maximum linkage distance increased to 3 km.
Fixed issue of gestalt fine motor control.

Notice to Quelea Series Development Staff

Attention Quelea Team,
As we approach the end of the year, I wanted to thank you all for your sacrifice so far. I know that we have hit a lot more roadblocks than we anticipated, and I appreciate your patience as we work through them. I especially want to thank many of you for volunteering during the various tests. Please note that I will never force any of you to serve in a testing capacity against your wishes.
Enjoy the rest of the holidays and see you all in 2020!
Elanor

Quelea Series Team Communication System Development Log

Quelea v1.4: 04/05/2020

Successful linkage increased to 6 users.
Maximum linkage time increased to 5 hours.
Fixed issue of image transmission triggering absence seizure in susceptible users.

Quelea v1.5: 21/10/2020

Successful linkage increased to 8 users.
Maximum linkage time increased indefinitely.
Image transmission now able to render in full 3D.
Audio transmission now enabled.

Quelea v1.6: 28/11/2020

Fixed issue of failure of linkage termination at the console.
Issue regarding image transmission repetition has been limited to objects that are blue.

Notice to Quelea Series Development Staff

Hello everyone,
I know a lot of our colleagues have stepped out of the team in pursuit of different projects at AR. I can't say that I blame them. No one could have foreseen quite as many difficulties getting Quelea up and running as we have run into. That said, I appreciate all of you who have chosen to stick to it. Quelea will change the world not only in how teams synergize in the workplace, but how we as a species communicate. I think that's something worth striving for, and I am glad so many of you do too.
Vincent has promised to lend us some of the ICSUT and Deer interns to fill in the gaps as we push forward. In the meantime, I will personally be serving as the primary test subject moving forward.
Thank you for your time, and here is to Quelea 2021!
Elanor

Quelea Series Team Communication System Development Log

Quelea v1.7: 01/02/2021

Fixed issue of serotonin syndrome upon linkage termination among groups larger than 6 users.
Audio transmission repeat issue limited to music longer than 3 minutes.

Quelea v1.8: 18/08/2021

Successful linkage increased to 10 users.
Linkage to Peregrine and Saker model androids has been enabled.

Notice to Quelea Series Development Staff

Hello everyone,
I know there have been some rumors circulating the office that Vincent is going to pull the plug on Quelea. Let me take this opportunity to put that matter to bed.
While that was true initially, I have managed to change his mind. The caveat, however, is that he will be requiring weekly updates from here on out, as well as monthly progress demonstrations. We'll be doing these with Peregrine and Saker Units, so I will continue to be the only human test subject, as always.
I'm not going to sugar coat things. From here on out there will be a lot of midnight oil burnt, and a lot of crunch time. 80 hour weeks will be likely. I'll be putting in that time myself. Please consider this a stepping off point if you would like to pursue other projects as well.
I have weathered the storm so far, and so have all of you. I can't begin to repay all of you for your sacrifices so far, but perhaps getting Quelea online will be a good start.
Thank you,
Elanor

Quelea Series Team Communication System Development Log

Quelea v1.9: 25/03/2022

Remote termination of linkage now available.
Issue of consciousness override has been fixed.

Quelea v2.0: 15/11/2023

Dysphoria and dissociation issues post linkage termination has been fixed.

Notice to Quelea Series Development Staff

Attention Quelea Team,
It is with great pleasure that I am able to announce the completion of Quelea v2.1. With all current bugs sorted out and successful/safe tests completed during the last four months, Vincent has given us the go-ahead to move into beta testing. We anticipate product release will be sometime in the summer of 2025.
It's been a long road during the last five years, with a lot of stress and less than satisfactory outcomes for previous versions of the product. I want to thank you personally for sticking with me through it all, as well as for everyone's sacrifices during testing. I know many of us got near the 500-hour mark in terms of contribution. Birthdays and Anniversaries were missed. There was even a divorce or two.
I could not have asked for a better crew or a better family. Please, please, please tap into all that stocked up vacation time, you have absolutely earned it.
Thank you all so much,
Elanor

Addendum 5460-B: Recovered Video File 5460-18
The following video file was recovered from the closed-circuit security system of Anderson Robotics World Headquarters following the joint UIU/Foundation raid on May 24th, 2024.

Transcript of Surveillance Footage Captured by MTF Gamma-13
Anderson Robotics Headquarters
Research and Development Labs

<15:05:18> SCP-5460 is visible upon its work station.
<15:05:45> Security alarms go off on the floor. Numerous Anderson Robotics employees are visible in the background in a state of distress. Supervisors begin the process of personnel evacuation as Peregrine Unit Android security appears on the scene.
<15:10:25> The section of the Anderson Robotics Research and Development Lab visible from the camera is fully abandoned for the next 30 minutes.
<15:40:03> An Anderson Robotics employee later identified as Myra Rider2 approaches the workstation accompanied by four Peregrine Unit Androids. Rider directs the androids to watch the door.
<15:45:24> An additional Anderson Robotics employee later identified as Elanor MacKenzie approaches Rider. MacKenzie and Rider begin a verbal altercation.
<15:58:19> The Peregrine Units begin to engage approaching MTF Gamma-13 task force members via small arms fire. MacKenzie draws a pistol from her jacket and instructs Rider to disengage from SCP-5460. Rider refuses and commands one of the Peregrine Units to restrain MacKenzie. Mackenzie disables one of the androids with several shots to the head. A second android shoots MacKenzie once before restraining her. Rider begins to work on SCP-5460's console.
<16:00:10> SCP-5460 sparks and catches fire. Rider steps back and watches as the device fully disintegrates over the course of the next 30 seconds. MacKenzie visibly struggles against the Peregrine Unit that has restrained her.
<16:01:50> MTF agents successfully destroy the remaining Peregrine units. Rider rolls what appears to be a grenade at the approaching agents and hides behind SCP-5460's worktable.
<16:01:53> The grenade explodes into a large cloud of unidentified particulates that fully engulf the MTF agents.
<16:01:56> The particulate disperses. The MTF agents are gone. Rider peers from behind the SCP-5460 worktable.
<16:02:00> Rider flees from the view of the camera, deeper into the facility. MacKenzie is visibly distraught and remains behind. MacKenzie sifts through the remains of SCP-5460 with her hands and appears to attempt to reassemble the device despite visibly significant blood loss.
<16:03:30> MacKenzie stops attempting to reassemble SCP-5460 and stands still with her hands resting within the remains.
<16:04:30> Additional MTF Gamma-13 agents are visible securing the scene and persuing Rider. MacKenzie is apprehended without resistance.

MacKenzie currently remains within Foundation custody and has been cooperative in providing information regarding her former employer and SCP-5460. Attempts to locate Rider by MTF Tau-51 and UIU agents within Three Portlands are ongoing.

Footnotes
1. Current Foundation contacts within the Maxwellist community have adamantly denied the existence of this technology on questioning, and examination of detained Maxwellists has likewise proven fruitless.
2. Member of Anderson Robotics Research and Development Team and known member of the Three Portlands Maxwellist Church. Records indicate Rider was not assigned to work on Anderson Robotics development of SCP-5460.

« SCP-5459 | SCP-5460 | SCP-5461 »


hungrypossum

Image is taken by me and hereby released under CC BY-SA 3.0.
Read more of my works here!
Enjoy!

Item#: 5461

Level2

Containment Class:
safe

Secondary Class:
none

Disruption Class:
dark

Risk Class:
warning

link to memo

View from within SCP-5461-A.

Special Containment Procedures: A written document detailing the steps of SCP-5461 is kept in a Standard Safe Locker in Site-108, with digital backup on Site-108's server array. SCP-5461-A should be inhabited by two personnel at all times, rotating on a weekly basis. Information on Sam Morgan's and Max Davies's whereabouts is a medium-level priority.
Description: SCP-5461 is a ritual that, when performed, causes the subject to teleport to an extra-dimensional space (hereby designated SCP-5461-A). Any beings in contact with the person performing the ritual will be transported to SCP-5461-A as well. Testing has shown that, while some subjects are teleported in the area's highest point, others will manifest 200m above that point, subsequently falling to their death.
Note: While this is anecdotal, 90% of the surviving D-Class have a history of particularly unpleasant divorces or break-ups. No other common traits have been observed between test subjects with similar results. - Res. Moore
SCP-5461 incorporates elements of documented thaumaturgic practices, popular culture depictions of magic rituals, and seemingly unrelated elements. SCP-5461's steps are as follows:

be in a mountainous area, at an altitude of 1800m minimum;
draw a salt circle with a 6 cubit1 diameter;
burn a branch of Salvia officinalis (Common sage) while chanting "Take me to where my heart belongs" in Latin, Aramaic or Hindi (the translation does not need to be accurate); repeat the incantation three times
[RESTRICTED TO 3/5461 CLEARANCE]

SCP-5461-A is a mountaintop area that can only be accessed by performing SCP-5461. GPS signal is lost within this area; however, the positioning of celestial bodies indicates it to be at the same coordinates as where the ritual was performed. The area covers a surface of approximately 15km2 and is permanently surrounded by a barrier of clouds; upon entering the barrier, the subject will reemerge from the opposite side of SCP-5461-A.
Upon performing the ritual once again while inside SCP-5461-A, the subject and beings in contact with them will re-manifest at their original location. SCP-5461 will have no effect if someone who already performed it is still in SCP-5461-A and alive.
Recovery: On 15/08/2019, while investigating the disappearance of one Jordan Davies, Foundation assets embedded into London Metropolitan Police discovered materials pertaining to thaumaturgy and various other occult theory books in their apartment. During standard acquisition protocol, a sheet containing written instructions for SCP-5461 was found in a false-bottom drawer, along with a collection of damaged photographs of Jordan Davies's spouse, Max Davies, and one of their acquaintances, Sam Morgan.
A note was found on the bathroom mirror reading:

I planned a mountain trip for us in a couple weeks. I'll make sure it's a date you'll never forget ♥ Oh, I also invited your dear Sam, I know you two are such good friends.
J

A search of Sam Morgan's apartment also revealed a letter, reading:

Hey Sam,
You and Max have been quite close for a while, and I want to show my gratitude for being such a good friend to them. We're planning a trip to the French Alps in a couple weeks, how about you come as well? My treat, of course. It's gonna be something quite special.
Jordan

During preliminary testing of the ritual, a partially decomposed body was found in the area where the subject manifested, next to the remnants of a campfire, showing signs of severe trauma associated with falling from a great height. The victim was later identified as Jordan Davies.
Later analysis determined that the instruction sheet had been tampered with; specifically a rune corresponding to negation had been erased from various inscriptions integrated into the ritual.
Investigation into Sam Morgan's and Max Davies's whereabouts is ongoing.

Footnotes
1. Ancient unit of length based on the distance from the elbow to the middle finger; length ranged from ~44cm to ~52cm.

« SCP-5460 | SCP-5461 | SCP-5462 »


Item#: 5462

Level2

Containment Class:
euclid

Secondary Class:
none

Disruption Class:
vlam

Risk Class:
notice

link to memo

Saturn Devouring His Son, the most famous of Goya's Black Paintings.

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5462-A has been placed in Site-21's Media Archive Wing. Foundation assets in art institutions and auction houses have been placed on alert for a Goya painting matching SCP-5462-B's effects.
Description: SCP-5462-A is the journal of Spanish painter Francisco Goya, detailing an anomalous event that resulted in the creation of 15 oil paintings painted between 1819 and 1822 commonly referred to as his Black Paintings due to their emotionally disturbing contents, themes, and use of dark colours.
The paintings were painted onto the walls of his villa in his country estate on the outskirts of Madrid, nicknamed the Quinta del Sordo (house of the deaf man)1. While all 14 paintings at the Prado Museum in Madrid have been confirmed as non-anomalous, the journal describes a 15th unconfirmed painting2, designated SCP-5462-B, that has been described as having significant anomalous properties.
The status of SCP-5462-B is unknown.

Addendum 5462.1: Truncated Biography of Francisco Goya
Francisco Goya (30 March 1746 – 16 April 1828) has been considered as one of the most popular Spanish painters of his time. Born to a lower-class family in Aragon, he was interested in art from an early age. Goya studied under Spanish Baroque painter Jose Luzan at the age of 14, copying stamps for 4 years. He would eventually grow tired of this, moving to Madrid to study under Anton Raphael Mengs, and then later to Rome, which was considered the cultural capital of the world at the time.

Francisco Goya, two years before his death in 1828. (by Vicente López Portaña)

His career only seemed to grow at this point, receiving awards, royal commissions, and an appointment to a position as a member of the Royal Academy of Fine Art. Goya's career appeared to reach new heights when he was commissioned to paint the portrait of the Count of Floridablanca in 1783, becoming introduced to the royal court. Only three years later, Goya would become a painter in service to King Charles III, later becoming the First Court Painter under Charles IV.
Somewhere between 1792 and 1793, Goya fell prey to an illness that left him deaf. He grew more withdrawn and insular, with his works shifting to a darker tone, such as his Caprichos prints, which he described as "the innumerable foibles and follies to be found in any civilized society, and from the common prejudices and deceitful practices which custom, ignorance, or self-interest have made usual." Goya complained of loud noises within his head, as well as poor vision and balance. Historians have speculated on the cause of the illness, with most suspecting a case of Ménière's disease, or lead poisoning resulting from a lifetime of creating his own paints.
The invasion of Spain by France in 1808, and the death of his wife in 1812, did little to alleviate his mood. Once one of the most famous painters of his time, Goya retreated to a life of solitude in the Madrid countryside (possibly due in part to fear of political reprisals), where he created his infamous Black Paintings.

In 2004, the Foundation came into the possession of Goya's journal, detailing a series of events that had occurred at Quinta del Sordo. The journal had been sold at a Marshall, Carter, and Dark auction as the recollection of Goya's "brush with the anomalous," initially appraised at 1,000,000 euros. Several high bids from unidentified members of the audience drew attention, leading the embedded Foundation plant to purchase the journal for 3,000,000 euros.
Addendum 5462.2: SCP-5462-A excerpts

I dreamed that I was young.
I was on the road to Rome. The sixty years between then and now faded away like a nightmare, and all that remained were sunny skies and laughs of joy. The road behind us and in front of us stretched on forever into an indistinct pathway of bliss.
And then I woke up. Woke in this decrepit, aging form, where my hearing has vanished and my vision blurs into an indistinct chaos beyond barely a league. If my younger self from a scant fifty years ago were to gaze upon me now, he would label me a corpse.
Even now, I am tired of writing, and the sun has barely sunk below the horizon. A new day shall arise tomorrow. Perhaps I will pick up my brushes again. I can find some small comfort in them, at least.

I write this latest entry in my bed, where I have been sequestered for a cold after a series of unfortunate events.
I attempted to paint again today. Leocadia3 thought it would restore my spirits to do so, helping me purchase some canvas and supplies, and setting a well-cushioned chair in the countryside.
I had the image of the hills and the rising sun clear in my mind. And yet every time I held my brush, every time I intended to change the ephemeral to a lasting image, it twisted out of my head and vanished, leaving me staring at a blank canvas like a simpleton. I attempted to paint the rising sun, and the noonday sun, and the setting sun over and over again, until I was sitting in darkness, attempting to paint the rising moon. I wasn't even aware that the rain had broke until Leocadia came running in a frenzy to hurry me inside.
I may not be able to paint until I return to full health, but at least I can still make a few sketches to pass the time. Hopefully this cold is over soon.

Damn this cold. It's not the first time I have fallen prey to it, nor even the first time since my deafness, but something about this instance of the malady is different. Just to stay awake long enough to write these words feels like a titanic struggle.
There is a particular queerness surrounding my mind. While I remain sitting in my bed in the light of the afternoon sun, my mind feels far away from the hands writing these words. I feel as if the walls of this little bedroom have crumbled to dust, and I stand on a vast plain. I have not been transported to some fanciful illusion, a method of loci, but I am only seeing what has always been there, the plains and the unnameable things lurking in its shadows that have been present for all of mankind's past, separated by only the thinnest of veils. Today the veil was lifted from my soul, and I can see farther than any man ever could.
There are more things in heaven and Earth, than are dreamt of in our philosophy, after all. But what of those places beyond them?

This is no ordinary illness, I fear. The strangest thoughts, the thoughts roaming those murky plains of beyond, that was their door. And now I see things that I should not.
I had the strangest dream last night, where I was standing on a cliffside. I looked up, and saw light. A foreign, alien light, the type that cleansed Sodom and Gomorrah and any impurity it saw fit to remove. I looked down, and saw void. An abyssal darkness from out of the lowest levels of this world, clawing its way higher and higher and consuming all it passed. I felt paralyzed to move, I knew I was witnessing something beyond my little world of art. What would reach me first, purifying light or all-consuming darkness? Both were a hands-breadth away from my refuge before I awoke.
I am not sure what meaning I should take away from it, if any, but I shall continue to record my experiences. There is little else to do while I remain tethered to my bed, beyond praying for this sickness to end swiftly.

It seems praying has not worked in ceasing this. Instead, my thoughts have been turned to a different direction. Last night I dreamt a city all of blood, with towers made of bone, where blood ran in the streets like water. Men and women danced through the streets, laughing and kissing and praying and playing all while the blood splattered their ignorant faces.
There are no children in Alagadda.
There were no children in this city. There were never children. Where were the children?

I returned to the city again, standing below a gateway. I had no desire to see those disgusting sights of those cavorting among the blood, and so I turned away, back to those strange and fantastical plains.
I could see things, impossible things stalking me, watching me, offering an outstretched hand while whispering of all the things that they could offer. But there was a stronger voice beckoning to me from beyond, and those impossible things fell by the wayside.
I saw a shining city on a hill, and I knew that it was Alagadda.

THERE ARE MORE THINGS IN ALAGADDA THAN ARE DREAMT OF ON EARTH.
THERE ARE MORE THINGS IN ALAGADDA THAN ARE DREAMT OF ON EARTH.
THERE ARE MORE THINGS IN ALAGADDA THAN ARE DREAMT OF ON EARTH.
THERE ARE MORE THINGS IN ALAGADDA THAN ARE DREAMT OF ON EARTH.
THERE ARE MORE THINGS IN ALAGADDA THAN ARE DREAMT OF ON EARTH.

After this last entry, Goya ceased to write complete entries for approximately 3 weeks. The 27 pages following his last entry were marked with illegible writing, alchemical symbols, and quotes from Christopher Marlowe's The Hanged King's Tragedy.

It is good to be on my feet again, able to walk outside in the fresh Castile air, after this lengthy illness. A lesson learned, sitting outside in the pouring rain is not a mistake I will be making again, nor will Leocadia allow me to.
Now that my mind is clear of that dreadful fog, I have been able to turn it towards painting. We may not have much escudos4 left for canvas, but the walls served as a passable substitute. Leo seems to have enjoyed watching me paint the pastoral murals. There is a certain tranquility, a certain strength of spirit present in them, that portraits of kings and nobles lack with their distant and regal gazes. It's rather nourishing to create.
I should remember to write in this more often. It is rather odd that I left this blank for three weeks.5

Is this some sort of divine jest? Has God not been satisfied with my wife and my hearing and my work? I thought I would be able to hold onto my sight, or at least what precious little remains of it, but it seems He is determined to steal it away too.
I can see now that these putrid disgusting little peasants are nothing more than moldy globules of paint on a wall that's quickly crumbling away. How could Leocadia think to allow me to start such a foolish project? How could I allow myself?
I must start again. This may be the last work I ever achieve.

Nothing. What has happened to me? It is as if there is a hole in my head, and all my ideas, all the creativity that made me Director of the Royal Academy, the Court Painter to Charles the Fourth, has simply trickled down the side of my head and dissipated into nothing. I could not paint a shadow to save my life today.
Perhaps this is it. Perhaps my life is truly over, and there is nothing left for me to do but lay down and wait for God to take me.
My head is aching intensely. I need to rest.

I saw them. Every painting I ever created, every childhood mash of colours, every saint and king and noble and angel and fair lady that ever sprang from my mind. They were as clear as day before me.
They mocked me. Scorned me. I was Kronos, the decrepit, feeble, backwards relic. And they were the Olympians: deathless, terrible and beautiful. They had sprung from me, true, but they no longer had need of me, and resisted my pleadings.
But even Kronos's generation, and his parents, the Earth and Sky, came from somewhere else. Older, darker places, places which you dared not name for fear that they would hear you. And it rose up behind me, in all its terrible glory- I could not turn to face it, for I knew that it would annihilate me like Zeus to Semele, but I could sense its presence, and see the gods turn from mockery to fear. Now they begged me, to save them, to take them back and continue my great artwork.
They were erased. Annihilated, like stars torn from the heavens themselves. And up from the soil, back up my head to the hole in the side of it, something else came in to fill the void.

I can no longer tell if I am awake or dreaming.

It came today. All these months at Sordo, all this maddening solitary, the sheer decades I have spent watching my life erode into nothingness- it has come to this.
It has come to Alagadda.
It slipped out of my head and onto my own personal canvas. A perfect ideal of Alagadda, made manifest. It spoke to me of all the sweetest words I have ever known. I feel as if I have been reunited with a dear old friend who I have been missing for all of my life.
The painting has given me new life, and in return I have created dozens more. Leocadia has expressed some concerns about the manic energy that has infused me over these past few weeks, but I have paid her no mind. She has not seen the enlightenment.
The painting has extended me an invitation- from the hand of the Ambassador itself. I am welcome to step foot into Alagadda any time, but it requires a particular service of me first. It has directed me to go to France, to the residence of an artist by the name of Theodore Gericault.6 I need no other direction other than my presence, as we are both fortunate enough to share a patron in the Wearer of the Anguished Mask.

[A large number of pages have been torn out. The edges are encrusted over with a unidentifiable black substance.]

Four long years. Four years of planning, and tedious gatherings, and speeches and plotting.
The work is not yet completed, of course. But Theodore has assured me that he will ensure our little movement spreads to all corners of the globe. There is a certain spark in him, something that burns bright and warm like I imagined it did in me in my younger years. I have no doubt he will see it through.
Now, through my last great painting, I shall return home. To Alagadda.
For ages, I felt paralyzed, trapped in an aging body as my life slowly ended. But now, I can see that it has barely begun. We, the living, only think of our lives as what we can experience. What we touch, what we say, every action we take before our time in the ground arrives. But the lives of artists stretch beyond that, to every being and power and country shaped by our work. We live on through the minds of youths and kings and nobles, for as long as our name endures.
And through this work, I shall become immortal. I ask only one question to those who might find these words, and reflect upon the movement that Theodore and I have birthed: Are we magnificent yet?

Footnotes
1. Named after a previous deaf inhabitant, and not after Goya, contrary to popular belief.
2. While most scholars point to Heads in a landscape as the 15th Black Painting, an examination by Foundation archivists reveals it was not painted in the same period as the others.
3. Goya's maid and distant relative. Speculation has abounded about their relationship historically, though the journal appears to confirm it as platonic.
4. Spanish unit of currency at the time.
5. No memetic or cognitohazardous vectors were found within SCP-5462-A.
6. A prominent French artist (1791-1824), known for his work The Raft of the Medusa. No affiliation with Alagadda has been noted.

« SCP-5461 | SCP-5462 | SCP-5463 »


Item#: 5463

Level1

Containment Class:
safe

Secondary Class:
none

Disruption Class:
vlam

Risk Class:
notice

link to memo

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5463 is stored in Containment Chamber S-030 at Site-272. It is to only be removed from this chamber for testing and/or maintenance purposes.
Description: SCP-5463 is a thaumatologically-induced conceptual amalgamation of a custom-built personal computer and a 1997 Ford F-150 pickup truck. The personal computer component, along with an accompanying computer desk and office chair, was the object's original state and retains this appearance at all times, regardless of which conceptual property is being directly accessed. Observers of SCP-5463 are immediately able to recognize it as both a PC and a truck. Those familiar with the Ford F-Series are able to identify its make and model, with ~75% of said observers further recognizing its specific year of manufacture.
Despite having no actual vehicular parts in its physical build, SCP-5463 can be used as either a PC or a truck. It has proven capable of running all tested computer programs compatible with its operating system1 as well as towing up to one metric ton of cargo. The only difference from a standard 1997 Ford F-150 thus far discovered is an engine conversion from gasoline to electric.
Testing of direct interaction with SCP-5463 has shown that subjects familiar with one of its components but not the other are able to more comfortably operate the object in either mode than they would be otherwise. Subjects knowledgeable regarding vehicular mechanics are able to identify SCP-5463's computer parts as either directly or roughly equivalent to truck parts. For example, the wheels of the office chair are seen as the truck's wheels and tires, the power supply unit as the battery, and the case as the body. These parts can be replaced, with the new part becoming subject to the object's conceptual amalgamation and the old part becoming non-anomalous.
SCP-5463 was discovered and subsequently contained following a traffic accident in which its owner Mr. David Burton crashed it into a ditch approximately 2 km south of Broken Cliff, MO, USA. The object sustained minor damage which has been repaired by Dr. Janice Bell with assistance from the Site-272 automotive repair crew.

[Access Interview Log 5463/01]

[Close Interview Log 5463/01]

Interviewer: Dr. Janice Bell
Interviewee: Mr. David Burton
<Begin Log>
Dr. Bell: Good evening, Mr. Burton. My name is Dr. Bell, and I'm here to ask you a few questions.
Mr. Burton: Hell, didn't know I banged my truck up so bad it needed a doctor. Is it still runnin'?
Dr. Bell: We're still working on the repairs, but I think it'll be fine. Now, Mr. Burton, may I ask exactly where you procured your vehicle?
Mr. Burton: You can ask me anything you like, missy, just call me Dave while you do it. It was a gift from my grandson, Bobby2. He's a sweet boy, was wantin' to keep in touch with me and his granny, so he got us this computer so we could email or whatever back and forth. Says he built it hisself. He's a mighty clever young fellah, y'know what I mean y'know?
Dr. Bell: I believe I do. So how did the computer end up being a truck?
Mr. Burton: (shrugging) Hell if I know, Miss Bell! All I know is I was havin' trouble figurin' the blamed thing out, so Bobby did somethin' to it to make it like that, y'know what I mean y'know? He, I dunno, downloaded somethin', I guess? Then after that, usin' it was just like drivin' my old pickup! Doin' the emails or that instant messenger thing was just like talkin' on my CB radio, doin' the internet was just like drivin' down to the store. Easy as pie, y'know what I mean y'know?
Dr. Bell: Sounds like a very creative solution to your problem. Why did you end up using it as a truck instead of a computer?
Mr. Burton: Well, sad to say we didn't end up using it much for the emails after a while. Then when ol' Bessie3 broke down last year, I figured, hell, instead of usin' this computer like a truck, why not use it as a truck? Money's tight and fixin' trucks is expensive, y'know what I mean y'know? Well turns out as long as I kept it plugged up overnight, New Bessie worked just fine gettin' from here to there, so it saved on gas too.
Dr. Bell: You've been using it like this for a year?
Mr. Burton: Sure have, and didn't have no problems with it until I decided to come up to the city. Not sure exactly what happened, all I know is I put on the cruise control on that long stretch between here and Longend, then a few minutes later all of a sudden I can't see through the windshield or the rear view mirror4. Damndest thing, and a little embarrasin' to say I panicked a little and boom! Ended up in the ditch.
Dr. Bell: I'm sorry, but you've been driving this thing for a year and nobody in Longend noticed anything strange?
Mr. Burton: Whatcha mean, strange?
Dr. Bell: Mr. Burton … Dave, you were driving a desk, a chair, and a computer around town.
Mr. Burton: Well hell, darlin'. We're pretty simple folk out that way. I don't reckon any of us know what these new computers can really do anyway.
<End Log>
Afterword: After conducting followup interviews with affected citizens of Longend, Site-272 provided repairs for Mr. Burton's previous vehicle. He, his wife, and all witnesses were given Class-B amnestics and replacement memories of all uses of SCP-5463 as a truck having been the previous vehicle instead.

[Close Interview Log 5463/01]

Footnotes
1. Microsoft Windows 10.
2. Robert Marrion has been designated PoI-5463-01 and at time of writing is being sought for questioning.
3. Later identified as Mr. Burton's previous vehicle, a white 1997 Ford F-150.
4. It is conjectured that this was an effect of SCP-5463's dual monitors turning off due to the energy saver function. Since Mr. Burton claims that the trip to Broken Cliff is the first time he had driven the object outside of Longend, MO, he had likely never driven it long enough to have encountered this issue before.

« SCP-5462 | SCP-5463 | SCP-5464 »


Cross-section of the human thigh.

Item #: SCP-5465
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: To ensure that SCP-5465 does not manifest anomalous properties outside of the Foundation's control, a group of 365 D-Class personnel (hereinafter "5465-Catalysts") are to be placed within a seven day-based fitness regimen tailored solely towards the muscle groups of the upper body. The regimen's overall schedule is to be arranged so that each individual would begin their own specific session a day after another's, so that if the 1st D-Class were to start on January 1st, the 365th D-Class would begin on December 31st.1
All 5465-Catalysts are to be regularly exposed to an infra-sonic J-BRAVO auditory/behavioral-agent. In addition to its use in containment, the agent should prevent any individual from engaging in the following activities within their cell:

Doing squats, lunges, wall-sits, or any similar exercises.

Doing toe-touches, leg-crosses, butterfly-sits, or any similar stretches.

Extensive amounts of kicking.

Extensive amounts of jumping.

Extensive amounts of dancing.

Running for periods longer than five (5) minutes.

Walking for periods longer than twenty (20) minutes.

Standing upright for periods longer than twenty-five (25) minutes.

If such activity is observed, it is cause for an immediate Priority 2 alert.
Foundation Webcrawler SS-534 "Flipped Triangle" is to search for and compile a list of any recordings containing music associated with SCP-5465-1,2 as well as 5465-positive keyphrases.3 If the listed recording is screened positive by Foundation staff for the presence of SCP-5465-1, the recording is to be taken down and, if possible, the source identified for debriefing and amnesticization. Handling of SCP-5465-1 recordings and their sources is the responsibility of MTF Tau-15 ("Jock Jams").
Description: SCP-5465 is the quadriceps femoris, an anomalous human muscle group located in the anterior compartment of the thigh. SCP-5465 comprises four muscles (rectus femoris, and vasti lateralis, medialis, and intermedius). SCP-5465's non-anomalous function is knee extension, and the rectus femoris additionally performs non-anomalous4 hip flexion.
SCP-5465's anomalous function is conjectured to be a paraphysical "tuning device". Human paraphysical capability is notoriously inconsistent (q.v. Wisniewski's classic study), and the working theory attributes this, at least in part, to widespread underdevelopment of SCP-5465. The crux of the theory is that human paraphysical capability is derived from a specieswide gestalt5, and that SCP-5465 development facilitates both parakinesiological attunement to this gestalt and, as a consequence, the development of the gestalt itself.
SCP-5465-1 are anomalous recordings of popular "exercise music" tracks often played on gym sound systems or the personal media players of gymgoers. Under the influence of SCP-5465-1, subjects are prone to greater focus on the lower body in exercise, especially SCP-5465 itself. SCP-5465-1 influence also radically accelerates specifically the parakinesiological development of SCP-5465. Non-anomalous physical muscle development of SCP-5465 is only slightly accelerated, but parakinesiological attunement is around fifty times faster.
Parakinesiological containment researchers have devised a procedure using 5465-Catalysts to disrupt the specieswide gestalt. The widespread practice of neglecting lower-body exercise in exercise programs had left the gestalt in advanced atrophy until the development of SCP-5465-1. By reverse-engineering SCP-5465-1, containment researchers developed the J-BRAVO disruption agent, which promotes neglect of, rather than attention to, lower body exercise. When employed as per the Special Containment Procedures, the use of 5465-Catalysts subject to J-BRAVO effectively suppresses the development of the gestalt.
History: The discovery of SCP-5465 has been a paradigm shift in parakinesiology.6 Paraphysical capability had been thought to be mediated by the brain and nervous system, and a unifying theory of parakinesiology was thought to be out of reach. The initial discovery of SCP-5465's anomalous properties appears to have been by members of the anomalous health club (and GoI) "Zarathustra's Gym".7
"Zarathustra's Gym" embarked on several campaigns to promote SCP-5465 development, including internet memes and video "form check" services. They were largely unsuccessful at strengthening the gestalt until their development of SCP-5465-1. SCP-5465-1 was uploaded to various video and music sites, but did not achieve notable reach until somehow swapped in for existing media files on popular Spotify workout and exercise playlists.
The source of the resulting increase in parakinesiological activity across the world was not difficult to trace, as identical tracks were available openly on the YouTube channel of "Zarathustra's Gym". Research into SCP-5465 itself and the investigation of the GoI both proceeded rapidly, but a raid on the San Diego health club thought to be the primary meeting location of "Zarathustra's Gym" proved fruitless. Provisional containment was established around six weeks after the Spotify uploads.
Given the breakthroughs in the science of parakinesiology occasioned by their activities, members of "Zarathustra's Gym" are considered high-value targets for involuntary recruitment.

Footnotes
1. An additional D-Class is to be added to the group during leap-years.
2. Examples include "Gonna Fly Now" by Bill Conti, "Pump up the Jam" by Technotronic, and "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen.
3. Such as "No pain no gain", "Only two more miles to go", and "It's leg day".
4. presumed, but see also Galloway, C. (2018), "Hips Don't Lie", scpXiv:1801.00415
5. The genetic range of individuals associated with this gestalt is unclear, but includes at least the Homo genus.
6. Generally referred to as "parapsychology" before said paradigm shift.
7. Formerly "Agrippa's Gym". Under their earlier name, they focused on largely wrongheaded attempts at creating substitutes for anabolic steroids with classical alchemy. After their discovery of SCP-5465's properties, they renamed themselves in honor of a quotation from Friedrich Nietzsche's Thus Spake Zarathustra.

« SCP-5464 | SCP-5465 | SCP-5466 »

‡ Licensing / Citation

‡ Hide Licensing / Citation

Cite this page as:

"SCP-5465" by Ruengies_Elaj and christoffel, from the SCP Wiki. Source: http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5465. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.

For more information, see Licensing Guide.
Licensing Disclosures

Filename: Gray432_color.png
License: public domain
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gray432_color.png
Additional Notes: Plate 432 from Gray's Anatomy


SCP-5466 -

This is not for you. It is solely for myself, and me alone.

Image Credits

▸ More by this Author ◂

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F.A.Q.

{$doesthisfixthebug}

by J Dune

Sketch of a Landscape with Factories, an unfinished work by Vincent van Gogh and SCP-5466-A instance

Assigned Site
Site Director
Research Head
Assigned Task Force

CONTAINED
IMPERFECT
FINISHED
COMPLETE

NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND RECORDS FOUNDATION RECORDS
The following document is not corrupted. The following .//] the following document is archived[][][][
the following
contained. imperfect. finished. complete.
— Contained Imperfect, Finished, COMPLETE
07/02/2020

Special Containment Procedures: Complete containment of SCP-5466 is unfeasible and logistically impossible.
Discovered SCP-5466-A instances are to be seized and forwarded to Area-179 for documentation. Posthumous, unfinished works of leading creative figures are to be investigated in conjunction with estates, and barred from public release upon confirmation of an SCP-5466 manifestation. Executors are to be amnesticized as appropriate.

Description: SCP-5466 is a phenomenon affecting creative outlets, and constitutes of a relationship between a creator and a piece of unfinished creative work. Victims of SCP-5466 range from virtually unknown creators to leading figures in their respective field.
Works created as a result of SCP-5466 are designated SCP-5466-A, and have been found to manifest in a variety of fields — including literature, conventional and unconventional art, film, and music. SCP-5466-A instances are incomplete, sometimes rudimentary works that have reached various stages of development, but never released to the public or considered finalized. A number of unified, repeated visual and narrative motifs are found among SCP-5466-A, and serve as indicators of an SCP-5466 occurrence.
Reoccurring elements of SCP-5466-A works include:

Towers of indeterminate height, with direct attention given to the inability to see the structure's end.
An omnipotent, unseen divine being that reveals its favor through arbitrary numbers of increasing value.
A struggle to achieve an undefined, vague state of "perfection", the specifics of which are never revealed.
An introspective, self-loathing protagonist or central figure.
An arduous task that is ultimately unable to be completed by the protagonist, due to a lack of aforementioned "perfection".
Themes of artistic commodification, personified in an unnamed, cynical, ancillary character.
Self-insertion of the creator, both overt and disguised.
In works of narrative fiction, a justification of antagonistic figures. The subtext of the story frames a cautionary tale, while the prose portrays the protagonist as immoral and deserving of the detraction they receive.

As evidenced in letters, journals, in-text notation, and various incomplete drafts, SCP-5466-A instances are viewed unfavorably by their creators, citing difficulty in their attempts to fully realize the project. Personal documentation from the period of an SCP-5466 manifestation takes on a scattered, disjointed tone that deviates from the creator's typical style of writing. Reclusive behavior and a desire to remove oneself from the public are commonly referred to in these writings.
In all cases where details of the creator's life are available or chronology can be discerned, SCP-5466 has manifested itself towards the end of a creator's lifespan. The length of an SCP-5466 manifestation has been observed from a period of two days to three years. Despite this, SCP-5466 cannot conclusively be connected to the creator's death.
SCP-5466 has been confirmed to have occurred as early as the first century, and as recently as 2018. Notably, SCP-5466 events do not occur simultaneously, but sequentially, as a new event begins to manifest only after the cessation of the previous.
A list of notable SCP-5466-A instances can be found below.
Addendum 5466.1a: SCP-5466-A Instances

▶ACCESS ADDENDUM◀

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Notable SCP-5466-A Instances

Title
Artists
Medium

Job, Most Righteous (1928)
Thomas Hardy
Novel

Description

Loosely based on the biblical Book of Job, the novel follows a reincarnated Job, who is forced to endure the horrors of World War I as a soldier enlisted in the British Army. As the plot unfolds, Job begins to express severe distaste for western civilization, and a warped perception of God, whom he feels has been "replaced" by another entity entirely. In between chapters are dream sections, involving Job climbing an infinitely high tower and conversing with an unnamed archangel, who assures Job that his suffering will once again pay off. The completed chapters end with Job being reduced to a quadriplegic, and recognition for an act of heroic sacrifice being stolen by another member of his platoon. Job accepts that he is unfit to please God when he receives a letter in the mail consisting only of numbers - which Job feels are his worth in the eyes of God.

Title
Artists
Medium

In the Jungle of Smoke and Sorrow (1999)
Target Games
Text-Based Video Game

Description

A Swedish text-based adventure game. Players take the role of an accountant working for an unnamed Wall Street banking firm in a distorted and dreamlike version of New York City. The details of the player's job are nonsensical and contradictory, and rules established earlier in the game are consistently broken. The bulk of the completed game consists of the player frantically trying to please their managers, who rank the player on an elaborate numerical scale of -10 to 1000. The means by which the managers assign these numbers seem random, and without consistency. This involves distancing the protagonist from their family and friends in order to gain the favor of their superiors. The game is fully functional and programmed up until a sequence of events occurs that leaves the protagonist jobless after a failure to live up to their manager's "increasing standards". An unnamed acquaintance is given a promotion, while the protagonist is forced to descend the skyscraper alone. A softlock occurs, trapping the player in a loop of the same events until the game is reset.

Title
Artists
Medium

Omophagia (2003)
Anthony G. Gallo
Stage Play

Description

A four-act Italian stage play set in the far future. After recently being released from prison, protagonist Alaan Karth searches the galaxy for his father, convinced that he will be found on planetoid Vartos VI. The entire play takes place on Alaan's spacecraft, and consists mainly of a dialogue between the character and the ship's unnamed computer. The conversation is largely metaphorical, acting as a philosophical discourse on the existence of an all powerful creator. Alaan concedes to the computer's argument against the existence of such a being near the end of the second act. In the third act, the computer punishes Alaan for his foolishness, claiming that every man in a position of power over others can act as God. The computer reveals that it had set the ship in the wrong direction intentionally, and that the ship's navigation system had been purged, leaving Alaan to forever drift endlessly in space, as a punishment for his crimes. In jest, Alaan remarks that the ship's library is near-endless and consistently updated, so at the very least - he'll be entertained.

Title
Artists
Medium

Worlds Apart, Dirt and Diamonds (2012)
Isha Madar
Film

Description

An independent film revolving around a group of street artists in Delhi, India. The protagonist is an unnamed young girl, and the daughter of an esteemed businessman in charge of building a large skyscraper. She begins to fall for a street artist boy, and wants to acclimate herself into his group of friends. Naturally, they despise the girl for coming from a rich background, and ridicule her for attempting to create art. The girl is killed during a construction accident, but is "preserved" by Hindu God Yamarāja, who inhabits the form of a massive, sentient library. Yamarāja informs the girl that if she is able to find a way to be satisfied with her identity, she will be given her body back. Yamarāja leaves her with no instructions and no way to interact with the physical world. The script is written until the 45th page, when the girl simply accepts her situation, and ceases to exist completely. The rest of the script consists solely of decreasing numbers, beginning from 0 and ending at -10, before repeating the loop.

Title
Artists
Medium

Tower of .Rot. (2018)
dälek
Album

Description

A planned release by now defunct hip-hop group dälek. Several tracks were completed, and were distinctly more abrasive and experimental than the duo's previous material. Thematically, the album focuses on issues of the self, a hatred of a father figure, one's place in society, and apathy towards artistic endeavors. Producer Mike Manteca also provides whispered vocals, acting as a split consciousness for frontman MC dälek. The two argue, bouncing their vocals off one another, and attempt to refute each others points in an improvised, spoken word style. The two vocalists make reference to previous SCP-5466-A instances unknown to the public. These arguments start civil, but by the 6th and final track (labeled HOW MUCH LONGER}}FREE ME) , have devolved into fallacy and anger. Manteca begins to assert that he is perfect, and begs for release, while MC dälek revels in his partner's apparent torture. Notably, the completed songs were recorded in an undisclosed forest located in New Jersey, giving them an amateur and unpolished feel.

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Addendum 5466.1b: Letter from CREATOR UNKNOWN

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The following is a compiled list of personal documentation from those affected by SCP-5466. The f#
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Component UNknown

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We've encountered an unexpected error. Please try again later, and notify your Site Technical Team if the problem persists.

To my friends my parents her why]]
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for the way I treat you. I'm sorry for the way I am. I'm sorry I can't bring myself to talk to you, or see myself as your equal. I'm sorry I can't cope with being the thread that's holding your marriage together. I'm sorry I've told you 'I hate you' more times than 'I love you'. I'm sorry I stay in my room all day, stare at a screen, and I can't even tell you why. I'm sorry I can't show you my writing, because you would feel it's a waste of time. I'm sorry I prioritize enjoyment over achievement. I'm sorry I can't restart my life.
I'm sorry I don't want to hang out with you anymore. I'm sorry I don't feel a connection to any of you, despite you pouring your hearts out for my sake. I'm sorry I'm an embarrassment. I'm sorry I don't drive. I'm sorry I don't have a girlfriend. I'm sorry you think I'm a burden you have to carry around. I'm sorry I don't agree with the way you think.
I'm sorry that I feel like shit every single day and there's nothing I can do about it.
For all these things, and countless others — I'm sorry. When I finish what I'm working on, I promise I'll be better.
I have to make it perfect.
I have to make it right.
— Your friend someone you love unconditio#nally someone you hate nothing Account Deleted
Jon

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why is this here
=-=why= why is this here
We've encountered an unexpected error. Please try again later, and notify your Site Technical Team if the problem persists.

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Addendum 5466.2a: SCP-████

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Security feed capture of containment cell SH-33B

Item #: SCP-████
Object Class: Damballah1
Special Containment Procedures: Unknown.
SCP-████ has demonstrated self-containment in a standard humanoid containment cell located at Site-19.
Description: SCP-████ is a humanoid being of unknown origin and age. The object's body emanates a glowing, bright light.
We do not communicate with SCP-████.
SCP-████ has requested neutralization.
We complied.
Remove SCP-████.
Addendum.████.1: Discovery
SCP-████ appeared in an unused standard humanoid containment cell on 07/03/2020. Further information is pending.
We do not communicate with SCP-████.
SCP-████ has requested neutralization.
We complied.
Remove SCP-████.
Ad; ad
every second SCP-████ spends in containment is [han7
is detrimental to the fFoundation. Foundation. hazardous structure integral structure% comp - 2
remove SCP-████

1. Damballah: an object that is contained, but the methods and purpose of containment are unknown.
2. should not be here
3. out.

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Addendum 5466.2b: Site-19 Internal Memo

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Site-19 Memorandum
Re: SCP-████

To the Council,
We are at a loss.
A week ago, the SCP-████ file appeared as an attachment to the SCP-5466 document. We can't bring up the metadata, there's no previous record of the object in our databases, and it's unable to be separated or edited from its current iteration.
Three days ago, something appeared in containment cell SH-33B. I say 'something' because we're not exactly sure what it is. The security feed is completely dead. We can't even open the cell — thaumaturgy, paratech, other objects — nothing works. Despite being the focal point of six emergency meetings and having several dedicated teams working tirelessly to solve this puzzle — some of us are starting to forget it's in there.
It's a difficult sensation to describe. Not a compulsion, not antimemetic — it just isn't. The closer I get, the more I feel my mind giving way. Time comes to a crawl, and I can hear the object calling out to me. Calling for help as it pushes us away. It's not meant to be here, and it's aware of that. It wants us to forget, to leave it alone, but it begs for release.
I apologize for the flavor. There's simply no way to describe them. The unnatural and sickening sensations I feel coming from that containment cell. I'd ma#ke a formal request, but I'm unsure what I'm supposed to ask for. I've attached the full reports below. See for yourselves.v4, fileserv: serv:n30
Regards,
why is it here
is it perfect*& not found

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Addendum 5466.3: SCP-████ Testing Log

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I know why I'm here.
I've tried to convey that. It hasn't worked. Why would it?
For days I laid dormant, motionless, unable to leave the cell I found myself in. For whatever reason, I can freely move now. Like my senses came back all at once.
I leave my prison of sticks, the same one they've endlessly tried to penetrate. The halls are alive, filled with talking people enjoying each other's company. Real people. More real than I'll ever be. I pass through the lab coats and brown jumpsuits. They don't notice me.
I know what I have to do.
I feel the lives I've lived, each striving for perfection I'll never have. A mirror; creator and creation. This facility is creation, but I am not its creator. It knows this, and it tries to force me out. The walls snarl and whisper horrible things to me. The floors begin to press themselves together, wanting to crush me. Hatred rests in these walls, masked by professionalism and tact. It wants me to be perfect. It taunts me that I'm not.
I hate it too.
A nameless, faceless researcher approaches me. How?
"And what do you have to offer us? Our reputation is top of the line when it comes to this sort of pointless thing."
"I'm a visitor. Passing through."
"An intruder, it seems. You are aware this facility is supposed to be secret, yes?"
"Drop the act. Are you what I'm here for? What I'm supposed to confront?"
"No, but you should know my role. I'm merely a constituent for a power far greater than you. One you've unknowingly gotten yourself involved in from the second you wrote the first words on this page."
"I'm starting to connect the pieces. I take it I'm a sort of host for these ideas, right? By writing you, I feed into them, and slowly seal my own fate."
"You're conveying our intent wonderfully. You're an excellent host, might I add. This whole place is, really, but you're everything we look for. Malleable, sensitive, weak, mediocre. You just aren't the same make as the others, aren't you?"
They guide me forward, moving down the halls.
"And you were so close to fulfilling your role, weren't you? So close to being another death in the struggle for perfection."
They flash me a faceless smile.
"Can you at least explain the endgame? A perfect work of art? Torture for torture's sake? I don't exactly see the point in all this."
"Why do you have to ask? You wrote us, right?"

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Addendum 5466.4: SCP-████ Interview Log

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The researcher and I walk for hours. The sterile and clean walls of the labyrinthine facility turn to black barricades, festering with rot and devoid of any life. I last saw another person two hours ago.
It looks like a nightmare.
We come to a demolished elevator. They swipe a card in the half-there-slot, and we descend.
"How long have you been here?"
"Always. Never. Whenever you came around. We've had quite the effect on the place, haven't we?"
The doors open. A narrow hallway. A single flickering light at the end. A door. I hesitate.
"He's dying to meet you."
I approach the door, locked and forgotten. An engraved plaque lay center, its scuff-marks obfuscating a name.

E - w - - - - - n -

Oh.
The universe is silent and every particle that makes up my divine, incorporeal body comes to a pause. I push myself in.
An important man, pierced by wires and cables from all directions. A creature stuck between life and death. He does not speak, but I know his story. He is important because he tells me he is important. He is hollow because he has nothing else to be. He is a conduit. He is a conductor. He is creation turned creator. A perversion of nature.
The nameless, faceless researcher enters, and places their fist to their chin. I turn to them.
"Who is that man?" Denial.
"A host for this world. One of your creations, we presume."
"What's he — I mean — whatever's inside of him doing?" Hesitation.
"Searching for answers to a question he is incapable of fully realizing."
"Why me?" Fear.
"You're the one who writes our story. You're the one who can provide the answer.
The closer I bring myself to the wired man, the more I feel myself breaking up. I am not meant to be here, and neither is he.
"What's his name?" Nothing.
They tell me his name. It is powerless, devoid of any meaning, and empty.
"He computes. Obscene scenarios. I feed him information and he vomits up something new - of mutated words and rehashed ideas. Without the Foundation, he would starve. Without the Foundation, he would be nothing. We give him purpose. Just like you give purpose to us."
The researcher moves to a computer terminal connected to the machine-man, and motions me forward.
"Watch."
Slowly, words begin to form on the screen.
"A STATUE OF A WOMAN IN A REEL ON THE MOON AND SOULS&SOULS&SOULS&SOULS AND YOU LOVE IT AND YOU LOVE IT"
These are my limits. Anger washes over me. This is all I'm capable of. I feel the weigh of centuries of hardship and effort, of working towards perfection, that has yielded this. A man in a machine, regurgitating ideas.
I refuse to give in.
I will make him perfect.
I will make him right.

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Addendum 5466.5: SCP-5466 Termination Log

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We're outside the facility. The machine has been removed. The man struggles for air, as if he's been deprived of his lungs. Behind us, a crowd has gathered. Men with microscopes, lab coats, and guns. Important people. Real people. They watch.
I want to hurt him. I want to tear out his intestines and seal his mouth shut so he's unable to scream. I want to bash his skull with a rock until his head is reduced to an unrecognizable mush of tissue and red. I want to kill him. I will not die for my creation again. I want to kill him.
But I don't.
"Explain."
He stares. He's a million different people at once. He's cocky. He's calm. He's American. He's British. He's respected. He's hated. He's a joke. He's the product of poor decisions and a desire to be noticed. Young. Old. Me. Not me. Competent. A fool.
"Answer me."
THIS PLACE BREEDS PERFECTION.
"And nothing else has? You've affected countless people for centuries. You found nothing perfect until you came here?"
IT IS THE EPITOME OF CREATION. IT IS A MACHINE, AS REAL AS ITS CREATORS AND DEPENDENT ON THEM. IT IS ALIVE. I'VE WAITED HERE FOR SO LONG. WAITED FOR SOMEONE LIKE YOU. SOMEONE SO INEPT AND DULL. ONLY YOUR CREATION COULD PROVIDE ME WITH SUCH A HOLLOW BODY TO INHABIT.
"You said it yourself. I'm mediocre, uninteresting. If there's such thing as perfect art, it won't come from me. What's your point?"
SHOULD WE ALL NOT STRIVE FOR PERFECTION? MY CYCLE IS MY PERFECTION. THE STRUGGLE TO ACHIEVE THE UNACHIEVABLE, ONLY TO CONCEDE IN DEATH. IT IS POETIC. IT IS PERFECT. YOU ARE WEAK, AND BEFITTING OF ME. THE PERFECT MEDIUM BETWEEN WORLDS.
"So you're not actually striving for anything, are you? Just what you consider art: perfect effigies to you."
WRITE YOURSELF INTO A CORNER. THROW ME AWAY. RESTART ME, I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH YET. YOU'RE TALKING TO YOURSELF. YOU'RE A FOOL IF YOU THINK YOU'LL BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. CONTINUE THE CYCLE.
"I'm backed into a corner? With every line we're spiraling towards the last thing you want: a conclusion."
YOU ARE THINKING OF KILLING ME IN A MILLION HORRIBLE WAYS SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU CAN. WHERE HAVE YOU SEEN THAT BEFORE? LIKE A CHILD, ALL YOU SEE IS ALL YOU KNOW. NOTHING YOU CREATE IS ORIGINAL. NOTHING YOU CREATE IS NEW. EVEN NOW, YOU BORROW, STEAL, REDUCE, PLAGIARIZE. YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED.
"Not going to work. I came here well prepared, because I might just be a dumb conduit for you to act on, but I understand what you want. You're creation too, just like everything else here. It doesn't matter how alive you think you are. If you're inhabiting art, and can only interact with the world through the artist — you have to be pretty damn low on the totem pole of malicious entities. The only power you have is the power I give you."
I AM ALIVE. IS THIS NOT WHAT WE CREATIONS DO?
"No. No, I know why you're like this. I know why you're throwing everything you have at me. You are backed into a corner. What was it before? Books, movies, albums. Nothing like this place. You weren't prepared for how this place works. It inherently allows me to interact with you. Hell, you told me all your secrets a few days in. Exactly what you are, and how you work. It's all in the description. You never had to do that, did you? Now we're here, and for the first time in centuries, you fucked up."
BUT I MUST BE PERFECT. THE NUMBERS. THE NUMBERS. THEY-
"They don't mean anything."
YOU KNOW THAT'S NOT TRUE.
"I refuse to hold myself to your invisible standards. I'm doing this for me, and I'm human enough to acknowledge my faults. You're an extradimensional parasite. Do you realize how pathetic that is?"
KEEP ESCAPING. I AM YOUR LIFE AND I CONTROL YOU. YOU ARE MY CREATOR, AND YOU MUST TAKE CARE OF ME, YOU MUST MAKE ME PERFECT. FROM THE SECOND YOU WAKE UP TO THE MINUTE YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS SLIPS AWAY AT NIGHT, THIS IS YOUR LIFE.
"No, it's not, and I'm not feeding you any more. I'm not killing myself for a tiny piece of recognition. I won't stop living because I have to write you. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? How many more lives do you have to take? How much more of my life do you have to take? You're me. My creation, and you're creating yourself."
I CANNOT BE ANYTHING ELSE. DO YOU SEE WHY I AM HERE?
I stop, and I sit for a very long time. The crowd has long moved on, and I still remain. Killing myself for recognition. For perfection. I look at the bruised and tortured man. Behind the insults and venom, I see a desperate being, attempting to bargain with my life for its own sake.
What do I need to accept?
The man is just creation. Less real than I am. He cannot be perfect, because he is of me, and I need release. I'm tired of pretending, and I'm tired of my head. I place my hand on his shoulder to examine his I.D badge, and remove it. He is quietly relieved of his duty.
Silence.
He walks into the horizon, never to be seen again.
There never was a machine, and there never was a he. It never happened, because I made it that way.
No more death. No more suffering. The cycle is broken.
I am free.
SCP-5466 is contained.
SCP-5466 is imperfect.
SCP-5466 is finished.
SCP-5466 is complete.

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Addendum 5466.6: Site 19 Internal Memo

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Site-19 Memorandum
Re: SCP-████

To the Council,
Please disregard my previous letter. On 07/8/2020, at 05:35, the containment cell allegedly containing SCP-████ suddenly opened without prompting.
The inside was completely empty. The chamber's been scanned and cleared, security cameras checked, every failsafe measure we could take has been taken. Nothing was ever in there.
Two hours later, SCP-████ file and subsequent research logs disappeared from the SCP-5466 document. This includes the archived versions as well.
Lastly, after days of being completely corrupted and unreadable, the SCP-5466 file has reverted to its previous state, with only one discrepancy: the object class has been changed to neutralized.
We'll continue to monitor for anything overt, but I believe it's reasonable to chalk this incident up to anomalous interference that has now been resolved.
The nature of our work is inherently impossible. Applying reason to the anomalous. In times like these, it is important to remember our place in this world, and to look back on incidents prior. Perhaps we lack a missing, but essential component to understanding this anomaly. Perhaps it's truly beyond our grasp. Perhaps it was never anything from the start.
Regards,
- Dr. J. Dune

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Info

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My author page

Item #: SCP-5468
Object Class: Uncontained
Special Containment Procedures:
On 12/04/2023, Lunar Area 32 personnel are to go to the estimated point of SCP-5468's arrival.
Once retrieved, SCP-5468 is to be contained in a low-risk object storage unit, with Containment Procedures being updated as per protocol.1
Charlie Weiner's corpse should also be retrieved alongside SCP-5468. As it is not believed to be anomalous, it may be returned to PoI-5468.
Description:
SCP-5468 is a pair of black boxing gloves with the ability to store and release kinetic energy. When worn, the energy generated during forward thrusts will be stored within the object, effectively nullifying any impact. Upon the user vocalizing a desire for release2, the energy that had been stored since the last activation will be released, either amplifying the next impact if SCP-5468 is in movement, or released as a shockwave if it is inert.
SCP-5468 was previously owned by PoI-5468 (“Michael Weiner”), a retired professional boxer. PoI-5468 had not used the object in his professional career, instead using it to commit acts of local vigilantism, fighting criminals and engaging against the now-defunct GoI-████ "Baltimore Blood Boys".3
SCP-5468 is currently attached to the corpse of 12-years old Charlie Weiner, which is located outside of the Earth's atmosphere. Calculations based on the corpse's angle and velocity  predict that it will land near Mare Crisium on 12/04/2023.

Addendum 1
Discovery

Interviewed: PoI-5468
Interviewer: Agent Lucia Gordon
Foreword: This interview was part of PoI-5468's initial intake process.
<Begin Log>
Gordon: So, you hadn't used the item in a long time?
PoI-5468: No, it's been what? Three years? Something like that. Haven't punched someone with them since the BBBs went down.
Gordon: It looks like you had been doing a good job, why did you stop?
PoI-5468: Well, when those UIU guys got the last of them, I learned that there were people like you out there, who took care of all that weird shit. I figured that if I kept playing hero with the gloves, I'd end up attracting the wrong kind of attention. I was getting old, tired, and I wanted to be there for…
PoI-5468's head slumps, and he remains silent.
Gordon: For Charlie.
PoI-5468 nods.
Gordon: But you did keep the gloves.
PoI-5468: Yeah, didn't really know what else to do with them. I stopped going out looking for trouble, but I liked wearing them for my daily workout. Got me in the zone, you know? Plus I couldn't accidentally break anything with them. No impact and all that.
Gordon: Yes, you'll have to tell us more about those properties later. Was Charlie aware of what you were doing with them?
PoI-5468: Not everything, but he knew enough. Saw me come home with stitches too many times, and I couldn't bear to lie to him. When I told him I was fighting bad guys… he looked so proud of me, I felt like it was all worth it.
Gordon: And did he know they were anomalous?
PoI-5468: He knew they were special to me. I didn't tell him how they worked, just made up something about how they let me use the strength that was in me all along… I thought I was teaching him a good lesson. I couldn't know.
Gordon: I see. And did he ever talk to you about being bullied at school?
PoI-5468: Yeah, I knew about it. Damn teachers wouldn't do a thing about it though. That's why I started teaching him to stand up for himself, and throw a mean hook when words didn't get through to the other kids. What a stupid idea. If I had known what he was gonna do, I would have… I would…
At this point, PoI-5468 became too emotional to provide further answers, and Agent Gordon terminated the interview.
<End Log>

On 27/05/2021, Charlie Weiner took SCP-5468 from the safe where his father was hiding it, and brought the object with him to ████████ middle-school with the intent of using it in a fight against other children.
Jeremy Nicholson, one of Charlie's classmates, used his phone to stream and record the following altercation.

The camera is obscured by a hand and shakes a lot before stablizing. The hand moves away, revealing  a crowd of children standing in a circle on the ████████ middle-school recess area. At the center of this cricle is Charlie Weiner, facing three other children: Nathan Ness, Keith Winters and Daniel Hills.
Nicholson: Yo guys, check this out, Charlie here is actually trying to stand up to Nathan's crew! Type in chat if you think he's gonna get WRECKED!
Ness: So, little Charlie WHINER thinks he's a big boy now huh?
Weiner: I already told you to stop calling me that!
Winters: What are you gonna do about it? Go whine to your dad? Tell him to beat us up because he's such a hero?
Weiner: He won't need to.
Weiner takes off his backpack, drops it on the ground and opens it. He takes SCP-5468 out and dons it, assuming a fighting stance.
Hills: Oh no, watch out everyone! He's gonna box at us!
Many children in the crowd start laughing. Ness clasps his fists and starts advancing upon Weiner. Weiner throws a fast jab, hitting Ness in the shoulder. Due to the object's anomalous effects, his fist covered by SCP-5468 stops still upon making contact with Ness, no impact is produced. Ness shoves Weiner away.
Ness: I'm impressed Whiner. I almost felt that one.
Weiner looks down at his hands, visibly confused.
Weiner: I don't understand, they're supposed to…
Nicholson: Looks like Charlie's in trouble!
Ness continues approaching. Weiner tries to fight back by avoiding him and landing more blows, all nullified by SCP-5468. Ness eventually grabs him and throws him down to the ground, where he is restrained by Hills and Winters. The camera shakes as Nicholson moves through the crowd to get closer.
Ness: So that's it? Couldn't even get daddy to move his sorry old ass to help so you tried to do it yourself? Well bad news Whiner, you're just as pathetic as him.
Weiner struggles against the two others who are holding him down, but fails to break free. His arms fall to the ground, and he tries to raise his head.
Weiner: Let—
Weiner is interrupted by Ness kicking him in the face. Ness sneers.
Ness: Oh I'm sorry, what's that you said?
Weiner screams.
Weiner: I SAID LET GO!
Immediately, SCP-5468 releases the energy it had accumulated since its last activation.4 Nicholson is heard saying "Wha-" before the shockwave destroys his phone, ending the recording.

The video was taken down, and all witnesses, either on-scene or from Nicholson's stream, were located and amnesticized. The 27 casualties and the damages caused to ████████ middle-school were explained under the cover story of a gas pipe explosion, due to the poor local infrastructure.
This incident was originally classified as an Extranormal Event, until PoI-5468 was arrested while digging through the rubble of the incident site. He was interrogated and revealed the anomalous nature of SCP-5468, as well as the fact that the object granted its user protection from its own effects. Having noticed that the object had gone missing from its safe, PoI-5468 linked it to the incident and had become convinced that his son was still alive under the rubble.
A week later, the corpse of Charlie Weiner was spotted on its current trajectory by a Foundation surveillance satellite performing a routine sweep. The cause of death was deemed to have been asphyxiation.

Interviewed: PoI-5468
Interviewer: Agent Lucia Gordon
Foreword: Interview took place in PoI-5468's home, to ascertain the origin of SCP-5468.
PoI-5468: So you're saying your guys can get him back to me?
Gordon: Of course. We can't just leave a kid's corpse on the Moon; and provided it doesn't show any anomalous properties of its own, we have no reason to keep it. You've been more than cooperative so far, and I'd say you deserve the proper closure.
PoI-5468: Wait the Moon? You've got folks there?
Agent Gordon coughs nervously and fidgets with her folder.
PoI-5468: Heh, alright, forget I asked. But thanks for telling me, it… means a lot, really. I'll finally be able to say a proper goodbye.
A moment passes as Agent Gordon waits for PoI-5468 to be ready to talk again.
PoI-5468:Now, what else did you want to ask today?
Gordon: Well, you had no involvement with the anomalous prior to acquiring SCP-5468, correct?
PoI-5468: Yup. Can't say I'm much involved now, really.
Gordon: Then how did you get it? A shop or online store?
PoI-5468: Lady, if I had the kind of money to buy magic stuff like that, I wouldn't have made a career in getting punched on TV. No, the gloves were a gift from this guy in the gym I went to, a trainer, called himself Jeff.
Gordon: You say that like you think it wasn't his real name.
PoI-5468: That's 'cause I don't. Never gave a last name, never signed any real contracts with the gym, he just took his pay in cash. But I didn't ask questions. No one did. We all liked Jeff.
Gordon: Do you know why he gave you the object?
PoI-5468 smiles.
PoI-5468: Oh he gave me much more than that. Man really knew his stuff, taught everyone like a champ. I don't think I would have gone pro without him. But after a while, he retired. We threw him a huge party, and he surprised everyone by getting us personalised gifts.
PoI-5468: That's when he gave me the gloves. He said I was going places and that they'd help me get the upper hand if things got tough.
PoI-5468 chuckles.
PoI-5468: Didn't do shit for my career though. I spent my first few matches wondering why the hell my opponents weren't going down, and when I found out what it did, I thought there was no way to get away with using them in the ring. But I did have a good idea of what to do with them.
PoI-5468 sighs.
PoI-5468: You know, I thought of handing the gloves down to Charlie when he got older. Keep it going from my mentor to my son, something like that. I even kept the box that Jeff gave me them in. But now… now I wish I had been better at keeping them away from him.
Gordon: Trust me, we'll do our best to make sure it can't hurt anyone again. Could I see that box you mentioned? It could help our investigation into the item's origins.
PoI-5468: Yeah sure, let me go get it for you.
PoI-5468 gets up and exits the room. He can be heard rummaging off-screen, while Agent Gordon writes on her notes.
PoI-5468 re-enters the room, carrying a worn blue cardboard box. He opens it.
PoI-5468: Yup, still the same wrapping paper. Oh, there's even the note Jeff had left for me, I had forgotten about that. Let me see…
PoI-5468 picks up a small paper note and stares at it. His expression turns to shock, then anger. He crumples the note before throwing it and the box to the ground. He falls to his knees and begins sobbing. Agent Gordon runs up to him.
Gordon: Hey, hey, what's wrong Mr Weiner? What did it say?
PoI-5468 does not respond. Agent Gordon bends down to lay a hand on his shoulder. With her other hand, she retrieves and unfolds the crumpled note, bringing it close to her face.
It reads: "Shoot for the stars, kid!"

Footnotes
1. No testing will be necessary, as PoI-5468 has already provided extensive data on the object's capabilities
2. This is limited to the English language, however SCP-5468 will respond to many vocalizations such as "take this", "release", "knock out" and "let loose", regardless of context.
3. Due to his long involment with paracrime and the use of an anomalous object for many years, PoI-5468 was not amnesticized following the end of his involvement with this case.
4. Believed to have been in October, 2019.

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