A Little Mister's Halloween Special!

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October 31st, 2022. The main recreational area of Site-19 had never seen such a mess.

For the first time in a long, long time, Director Moose had given the go-ahead for some of the anomalies, at the behest of some other senior staff, to join in on the year’s Halloween festivities. Under careful supervision from a temporarily formed task force of agents that happened to be on-site, jokingly dubbed the “Party Poopers”, the entities could, if not posing an immediate threat, party with the rest of the staff. Agent Murphy, for example, was on Misters collection duty.

This would be the last time Moose gave this go-ahead.

Site-19, Cell ██, Hall ██.

SCP-2287 can be seen laying on his bed, listening to music. Agent Murphy knocks on the cell door, holding her other hand behind her back.

Agent Murphy: Yo, Headless, wakey wakey.

The neck stump of SCP-2287 leans forward, implying head movement.

SCP-2287: Huh? Isn’t it a little late for tests?

Agent Murphy: Nah, no tests. I guess nobody told you. Skips allowed at the Halloween party this year, so long as they ain’t destructive. Bunch of us agents are gonna be on watch, so we can keep y’all in check, but other than that, you’re free to fraternize with the rest of the staff.

SCP-2287: That’s… different. What happens if people see me though? Aren't they going to…

Agent Murphy: Well, it’s Halloween, so everyone’s expecting frights and spookiness tonight. Nobody's pulling a gun on you unless you do something stupid. Plus, all that’s not gonna matter. Moose said it’s a mandatory costume party, so I brought you a little something to cover up.

Agent Murphy pulls her hand from behind her back, revealing a large headpiece resembling a jack-o-lantern.

Agent Murphy: ‘Tis the season.

The party started well enough. Like every year, personnel began to flow into the central hall, orbiting the hallways and dormitories, spread throughout the Foundation’s crown site, all dressed up for the occasion. People from all across the branches of the Foundation, from nexus personnel to the AICs, came down to the middle of Redacted, USA, to hang out with the rest of the coworkers. It was a bit of a logistical mess, to be honest, not to mention they decided to cart a few of the anomalies over with them, but the site was large enough. More party for everyone, and it meant a few more Party Poopers on standby.

The costume contest, like always, seemed like it was going to Researcher Talloran, for his seemingly unreal level of monster-making skill. The Memetic and Antimemetic departments stuck to opposite sides of the punch table, terrified of mixing any accidental residue they might have contracted without noticing. Pastaphysics cooked up a series of delicious sweet treats, even taking inspiration from some recently acquired Ambrose recipes — though they made efforts to replace the anomalous ingredients. You’d probably almost never believe they didn’t use real clown milk. We hoped they didn't, at least.

The introduction of the anomalies, so far, had not yielded any awful results. SCP-3988 was thrilled to be celebrating the holiday, though he had a couple of comments on certain skeleton costumes, or as he called them, “appreciated but unfaithful adaptations”. Iris offered to set up a little kids' area for Cain for some of the younger anomalies, like 191, Timmy, and the newly arrived Mothboy, helping them make decoration and costumes out of whatever they could find laying around. This was the one night of the year when they could all feel a little less like freaks and even laugh at some of the scary costumes. I mean, the closest thing to a laugh for 191. A smile? Maybe.

The point is, it was going nicely, the same as every year. The fun staff like myself got wasted, while the not-so-fun staff stuck to their corner-sitting and complaining. Director Graham from 17 was grouchy as ever, pointing out the “wastes” of Foundation resources and being a general turd in the punch bole. We normally try to avoid inviting him (or the rest of 17 for that matter), but they managed to catch wind of it this year. I don't mind seeing some of the fellas from down deep, but it did admittedly hurt a little bit to realize they left all their skips at home, Rainer included. The kid couldn't catch a break.

Site-19, central hall.

Agent Murphy is standing in front of the door to the general recreational area, her arms crossed. She has adorned a vampire cloak, is wearing fake teeth, and is holding SCP-2428. In front of her is SCP-905, 2287, 909, 3537, 1908, 917, 913, 2396, 1007, 527, 629 and 2284. SCP-2855 and 644 are standing next to Agent Murphy. SCP-1799 can be seen sitting against a wall away from the group, looking down. All of the Misters are wearing Halloween costumes of ranging qualities.

Agent Murphy: Alright Misters, this is it. The front door. Tonight is the first night since all of you have been brought here that almost all of you are here at once. As we've informed you, Director Moose has decided that, under the condition that numerous armed members of Foundation personnel are on site, non-hostile and non-immediately hostile Skips are allowed to attend. This is, by far, the boldest move ever taken here for the sake of Halloween. It is a rare opportunity, for all of you, and I would like to make it clear that-

SCP-644: You all best be on your best behavior here. Murphy here's almost on her own, and she's got her own to take of beyond you guys, if you all decide to act like children. So don't be stupid and get her ki-

Agent Murphy: Hot? I can handle the speech on my own, thank you. I appreciate the concern over my… survival, but if you could refrain from doing, you know, that would be great.

SCP-644: Sorry boss, comes with the job.

Agent Murphy: Right. Well, anyway. Hot is right - I need you all to be behaving regularly tonight. For most of you, that's not a concern. Most of your anomalous capabilities don't pose an immediate threat to us, as far as we can tell.

Some in the crowd of Misters glance at SCP-527 and SCP-917. SCP-527 is wearing a cheap latex superman costume, and glares angrily back at the others. SCP-917 doesn't seem to notice.

Agent Murphy: And for those of you with more… iffy ones, we've figured out ways to counteract them in a manner that works as a temporary solution. Soap, we'll drain your suit every half hour. If it's getting too full, just tell Hot.

SCP-1908 gives a thumbs up, currently wearing a large hazmat suit costume, which has had a draining tube affixed to the left arm, and a breathing tube into the face.

Agent Murphy: Each of you has a "big brother" acting as your supervisor during this event, either Mr. Hot or Mr. Money, as well as a group of agents circling the party. The "Party Poopers", as we've been calling them, haven't made their identities known to you all. This means if you've got a problem, or something is going on, we can make sure to fix it quickly. It also means that if one of you gets up to mischief, you won't know who to avoid. And yes, while Moose is still technically trusting you guys can behave yourselves, the Security Department is putting in full throttle to make sure stuff doesn't go south. There are rules.

SCP-644: Most of which are, just don't be stupid.

Agent Murphy: Basically. I know Lost isn't here, but we're not looking for another "Mister Hunters". So listen to your big brothers, don't get into trouble, try to avoid fighting with other anomalies, especially try to avoid fighting personnel, do not let Mr. Life-and-Death near the "scary minty slime" under any circumstances, and try to have some fun here. This is Site-19. We're the biggest, and often regarded as the best site in the whole Foundation operation. Let's make sure the reputation can last one night. Any questions?

SCP-909 raises his hand.

Agent Murphy: Forgetful?

SCP-909: Hi. Who are you, why are we here, who are all of these people, and-

Agent Murphy: And with that, let the party begin!

All the Little Misters except for SCP-1799 enter the party, excited and laughing. Agent Murphy taps SCP-2855 on the shoulder, prompting him to turn around.

Agent Murphy: Forgetful is yours. Make sure nobody writes anything down for him.

SCP-2855: I've got him, Murphy. Now please, let's all enjoy this. Nobody's going to forget tonight.

Agent Murphy: We'll see.

SCP-2855 smiles, and follows the other Misters into the room. Agent Murphy stands and watches them, before looking to her right and smirking.

Agent Murphy: Well Mad, I guess it's just you and me. I'm glad you're the easy one, it would be-

Agent Murphy pauses as if she has been interrupted.
SCP-2428: Actually, I wanna talk to Laugh.
Agent Murphy: Really?

Agent Murphy pauses, then sighs and smiles.
SCP-2428: I just need to see if he's okay. Would feel awful if he spent Halloween sad.
Agent Murphy: You guys really are all brothers.

When the Murphy arrived with the Misters in tow, it was a bit of a sight to see. Truth be told, none of us had seen more than 2 or 3 of them together at once, so the whole cabal of Wondertainment’s kids strolling in, laughing and talking like the family they call themselves, it was surprising. A little cute, I’ll admit, but still surprising. On any other day, this would be one of the largest breaches of containment in recent times. But tonight, the staff at the party couldn't be more interested in seeing how the Misters would blend in. Only Stripes, Scary, and Redd weren't there. Scary and Redd, that didn't really surprise anyone. But Stripes was a strange exclusion. Murphy said that Stripes didn't feel like coming, would've been sad having been blindfolded the whole time. Lies seemed to agree… I think. It's always a mess trying to get what he's saying. Should've asked Mann, but he spent the whole night bobbing for apples. We all assumed he was just being crazy old Everett like normal, until he started throwing them at King. Then it all made a little more sense.

Even though they all started in the general recreation area, greeting folks and saying hello, eliciting some glares and strange looks from a couple folks, they dispersed around pretty quickly. Mr. Shapey got the idea of helping Iris and Cain with the kids, and thought he could be entertaining or something. Mr. Hungry went straight to the food bar, to the surprise of nobody. It's a good thing pastaphysics really prepared, because it would've been a total shitfest if he went into trance mode. I lost track of Chameleon pretty early on. Pretty sure he was either changing his color to scare people, or helping Mauntauk with his mini haunted house. Absolutely not going in there to check. You'd think after all these years here, it would be pretty easy to avoid cheap thrills in a cafeteria haunted house. But the man somehow manages to freak me the fuck out every time. No thank you.

1007 seemed to be having the least amount of fun, relative to all the misters. Some of them were dancing, and Sweetie even started singing, but Life-and-Death had to stick by Money's side the entire time. He's always seemed to be a loner, most likely as a result of his condition. Money had the key though, if Life-and-Death wanted to come back, he needed to be close. It's honestly pretty surprising the guy agreed to join the festivities, but maybe it felt nice to get out, kind of. That, or he appreciated the grim reality of being the dead body in the punch bowl. I don't get a read on that guy. 75 minutes isn't really a lot of time, especially since the first 16 are so… painful to watch. Like damn, we keep the guy in a coffin.

Still not as sad as Mr. Laugh though.

Site-19, north hallway outside the central hall.

SCP-1799 is sitting in the hallway, leaning against the wall and looking down with an expression of sadness. He is wearing a french beret and a black-striped white shirt. He does not react to Agent Murphy entering and sitting across the hall from him. She holds SCP-2428 out in front of her. The object now has a paper cutout of a bowtie attached to it with a paperclip.

Agent Murphy: Let's see… 1.2 meters, 58 kilograms, sad clown face… Mad, I think this is your guy!
SCP-2428: That's a pretty close approximation for like, half of us. I can see Laugh you know..
Agent Murphy is silent for a moment, then scoffs.

Agent Murphy: Yeah yeah, I know you're all- Look, it was a joke. Also, Sweetie is like, 8 feet tall.
SCP-2428: Pretty sure jokes are the bad thing here. Go enjoy your party, Murphy. I'll take him from here.
Agent Murphy rolls her eyes and smiles. She stands up, and gestures a hand holding SCP-2428 towards SCP-1799. He looks up and slowly takes the paper away from her.

Agent Murphy: It's for you.

Agent Murphy leaves. SCP-1799 remains silent for one minute, and places SCP-2428 on the floor next to him.

SCP-1799: I can see you. Please just leave me alone.
SCP-2428: Can't really do that big guy. Looks like you're stuck with me.
SCP-1799 is silent. He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

SCP-1799: You… didn't laugh?
SCP-2428: Uh. No? We don't affect each other, y'know. I don't think, at least. It's why you guys can see me without the paper, why Stripes and Lie can talk to each other so easily, and why Headless just looks, y'know, Headless.
SCP-1799 continues to look surprised.

SCP-1799: I… I didn't know you guys had immunity. I guess I never really… well. Anyway. Why'd you wanna talk to me?
Well, you are my brother, and it has been a solid… who knows. We didn't get to talk much ever, so no time like the present. Plus, I thought maybe I could convince you to join in on the party. Everyone sounds like they're having a killer time.
Silence. The sounds of personnel walking by in the central hall can be heard. This lasts for 1 minute.

SCP-1799: Ha, now that's a joke. I've always been the ass of the group, Mad. No way I'm going out to a party like that when I'm stuck like this.
SCP-2428: Stuck like this? You're not really that much of an ass, that was always Mr. Donkey's job. Also, you're talking to me, so I'm sure you could get around pretty well with all the Ess See Pee folks.
Silence continues. SCP-1799 raises an eyebrow.

SCP-1799: Pretty good? You're fucking with me, right? I- I can't hold a conversation with ANYONE, Mad. Anyone other than you guys, I've recently learned.
SCP-2428: Ha, yeah, I guess so.
SCP-1799 makes a disgruntled expression in the direction of SCP-2428, then sighs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.
Shit, sorry, no laughing. Forgot.
SCP-1799: No, no, it's fine. That actually was… a little funny, I guess. Still, I'm fucked, Mad. I'm more cursed than any of us, and I've gotten so tired of it. I don't even know why they let me out for this. Probably didn't want me to use the distraction of the party to-

SCP-1799 stops as if he has been interrupted.
Woah Woah WOAH there buddy, they did NOT invite you to this party just to keep you on security watch. This is like, the least secure place in the Foundation right now. Pretty sure Hungry found the food bar.
SCP-1799: That'll be a fun cleanup session. Well, anyway, I'm not going. I can talk to Misters, and Misters alone. Everyone else is gonna be another kick in the face from nobody being able to hear a word I say. Like I said, Mad. Cursed by the Doctor.
SCP-2428: You're cursed? Laugh, I don't even have a physical form. Do you know how long it's been since I've had ice cream? water? Anything?

SCP-1799: Well- probably not a while, but still. At least you can talk to people.
SCP-2428: Uh, yeah, only if they pick up the piece of paper though. And I don't even know if I really exist, or if I'm just whatever the person talking to me wants me to be. Not to mention that I've got a built-in ability to make people forget I exist. I wasn't even made for a cool toy or anything, just out of some crazy Doctor's stupid ass hunt for whatever xe thought "childhood joy" was.
SCP-1799 groans and throws his head back.

SCP-1799: So our lives both suck. Terrific, I feel better already. Why did you want to have this conversation anyway? Just… leave me alone, and see if Hungry is eating all the candy or whatever.

SCP-2428: Okay, okay, I'm sorry for making it a competition, alright? But Laugh, please. I know you feel like your life is awful. Trust me, I don't know how many of us don't struggle with whoever Wondertainment made us out to be. Hot, maybe. His life is pretty chill all things considered. ANYWAY! I know you aren't happy, and I know you probably just want to sulk away into a corner forever. I can't convince you have a gift, I know that. But I want you to come with me, and enjoy this Halloween party. You don't even need to talk. And if your arms fall off, or if ribbons come out of your throat, sure, it'll be weird and painful. We're all going to be there though. There to spend time together. If your arms fall off, we'll put them right back on for you. I just…. I don't want you to give up hope yet, alright? We might be freaks now, yeah, but who cares man? Tonight is the night for freaks and ghouls, and if these Foundation folks are willing to put that aside to let us, and let me emphasize this really clearly, they're letting us EAT THEIR CANDY. Then I think, for one night, it might be worth it to go out there and eat their candy.
SCP-1799 looks towards the central hall. Agent Murphy, SCP-644, and other Foundation personnel are out there talking and laughing. SCP-644 waves to Mr. Laugh. He sighs, readjusts his bowtie, and gives a weak smile in the direction of SCP-2428. He picks up the paper.
SCP-2428: You don't have to. It's your choice, and I don't want you to feel worse. But I know there are people out there who would love to see you.
SCP-1799: Fine. One night. Not sure why you even care so much about the candy, Mr. Non-Corporeal-Therapist.

SCP-2428: It's more so the merit of it all, y'know? Also, I thought we all agreed Mr. NCT was a forbidden name in this household, Laugh!
SCP-1799: Ha-ha. Let's go eat some candy. Hungry's gonna take it all if we don't.

SCP-1799 lightly smirks and stands up. He walks out of the North Hallway, and joins Agent Murphy and the others in the central hall. He silently waves to the group, and gives SCP-644 a light fistbump. Agent Murphy looks at SCP-2428 and smiles.

Eventually, Mr. Hot's group decided to flow out to the central hall rather than the gen rec. As the night went on, it got a little crowded in there, and folks like Mr. Lie didn't seem to do so well in social environments. I heard that Laugh even joined eventually, but I didn't see it for myself. Spent most of my time managing the security of the event, and also getting fucking WASTED with Mr. Fish and half the staff. Seriously, I know this guy supposedly has no anomalies other than the fish head, but damn can he handle a drink. Or five. That seems like a good, low estimate.

The problems started when Chameleon came back from the haunted house. He'd been experimenting with different color combinations for his "costume" since Murphy couldn't find anything good for him, and he eventually landed on trying to be a skeleton. It wasn't half bad, and Mr. Shapey had suggested it earlier. Sure, it had to be a white skeleton with dark blue highlights, and I don't think Chameleon… knows what a skeleton looks like. Not even sure if he has one himself actually. Anyway, when he sauntered in to the general recreation area looking like a scrapped together pile of bones, there was a plethora of reactions. All the Misters who weren't currently inebriated or performing their hearts out cheered, some of the staff complimented it, and some people still just gave him weird looks. Generally, though, it didn't seem that big of a deal. Except when Site-19's resident wonder of biology Napoleon Bonyparts learned about it. Now, I love 3988. Man is the unlife of the party, and he's generally one of the coolest anomalies we're keeping here. He kept doing this thing at the start where he pretended to eat food, except since he's a skeleton so it would fall out of his ass, and maybe this was and is the alcohol talking, but it was fucking HILARIOUS. The guy also got Life-and-Death to dance for a bit, even if it was mostly a "Weekend at Bernie's" for the last couple of minutes. That's actually really fucked up. Huh. Halloween gets wild I guess.

The point is, Boneyparts found out about Chameleon, and he was not happy. For every chill and sometimes-sarcastic comment, the guy cares about skeletal systems. I don't blame him, if I had to spend my whole existence as only a skeleton, I'd be pretty offended if someone tried to haphazardly dress up as me for Halloween. Wait, should this be an ethics committee thing? Maybe this should be an ethics committee thing. I'll ask Cimmerian later. I'm sure this is the most important thing he has to deal with tonight. Anyway. When the resident skeleton found this new, glow-in-the-dark imposter, he walked up to him and gave him a real piece of his mind. Chameleon, like all the misters, and all the other anomalies, was supposed to avoid fights as much as possible, so he swapped back to his default red photons. Problem is, Chameleon also decided to namedrop Mr. Shapey as the co-conspiritor behind the idea, so Boneyparts left the gen-rec to find him.

I wonder what could have happened differently if 3988 had never left to go yell at 3537.

I don't think we'd be covered in bubbles if he didn't.

Site-19, central hall.

Agent Murphy and SCP-644 are sitting at a table with Dr. King, Agent Nguyen, and Site Director Moose. SCP-644 is wearing a Reigen Arataka costume and is adjusting his wig. SCP-3537 is entertaining SCP-191, 200, 134, 040, and 1192 by changing his shape based on their requests. SCP-079 is holding SCP-1192 and feeding him small pieces of bread. SCP-105 is using her anomalous capabilities to place paper Halloween decorations made by the younger anomalies around the central hall. These include cutouts of bats, zombies, and pumpkins. SCP-5031, assisted by Dr. Huxtable, carries out a tray of Halloween-themed cookies and places it on the ground next to the group of younger anomalies, inciting a cheer. Dr. McDoctorate is sitting at the table across the room from where Agent Murphy and SCP-644 are located, engaging in a debate with SCP-2284, who is wearing a costume of The Riddler.

Dr. Placeholder: So… Mr. Lies. Okay, your file says you can only lie, so I guess I should take everything you say as… the opposite?

SCP-2284: Nope. Not correct.

Dr. Placeholder: Oh. Weird. Does the file need to be updated then?

SCP-2284: Uh. Yes?

Dr. Placeholder: But you don't have the authority to say I should do that, right? Since you're a skip?

SCP-2284: Do I have that authority?

Dr. Placeholder: That's- that's what I'm asking you. So are you or are you not only able to lie?

SCP-2284: No.

Dr. Placeholder: Why are you contained here then?

SCP-2284: I don't know why I'm contained, it's not because I can only Lie.

Dr. Placeholder: But everyone else seems to get it, and it's written down in the file.

SCP-2284: Uh… No, nobody else here knows why I'm contained.

Dr. Placeholder: So only I know why you're contained?

SCP-2284: Yeah.

Dr. Placeholder appears increasingly frustrated.

Dr. Placeholder: So then why don't I-

Dr. King interrupts Dr. Placeholder by throwing a piece of candy at him from across the room. SCP-2284 reels back and places his hands up in surrender.

Dr. King: Oh my god shut up, this is not working.

Placeholder recovers and throws an apple seed at King.

Dr. Placeholder: Look man, I haven't gotten a lot of chances to talk to the Misters, and this one's presenting a very interesting challenge. Also, from the looks of it, we're containing a regular guy here? Or not. I've been through cognitohazard resistance training and the upper limits of pataphysics but this hurts my head so, so much.

Dr. King: I don't care, stop trying to understand him. Mann tried that years ago, he's not worth the brain fart.

Dr. Placeholder throws another apple seed at Dr. King. King scowls at him and stands up, leaving the central hall and going back to the general recreation area. Dr. Placeholder continues to converse with SCP-2284. SCP-644 laughs.

SCP-644: Ahh, I missed this. Feels nice to stretch my legs, watch Lie argue with people again. That Doctorey guy is never getting anywhere.

Agent Murphy: That doesn't mean he won't try. Man's persistent.

Agent Nguyen: You can say that again.

Director Moose: Placeholder's persistence is what makes him one of our best. It also makes him perfect for pataphysics.

SCP-644: Pastaphysics?

Agent Murphy: Nah, pataphysics. Pastaphysics is the site cooks, pataphysics is narratives.

SCP-644: Right, right. I gotta say Moose, I appreciate letting us out to stretch our legs. You guys could not imagine how cramped it gets inside a cell, and I like seeing all of my siblings get around. Think we all needed this.

Director Moose: There's no need to give me any thanks, Mr. Hot. It's the modern age of the Foundation, and I think that should include giving a little bit of levity to you guys more often. You've already got free time, and the cafeteria, so this felt like a nice step up. It's nothing veil-breaking, and we've got exceptional agents like Leah and Thai here to make sure that, if something does happen, it can be solved quickly.

Agent Murphy: Exceptional? Ma'am, with all due respect, we're just doing our jobs.

Agent Nguyen: Speak for yourself, I'm taking that compliment.

The table laughs. SCP-5031 and Dr. Huxtable walk past the group carrying a large band set, including drums, a guitar, a microphone, and a keyboard. SCP-644 looks at SCP-5031 surprised.

SCP-644: Uh, bossman? Do I wanna ask about… that guy?

Agent Murphy: No need to be rude, Hot. That's 5031. It's a really gentle fella, and Huxtable raised it up to be one of the best cooks slash performers slash people-Esque creatures in the site.

Dr. Huxtable: Oh please, I simply gave it the tools to succeed, nothing more. It's 5031's success we're talking about here.

Director Moose: Huxtable, can I ask about the instruments?

Dr. Huxtable: When I told 5031 about the Halloween party, a few weeks back, it got excited and wanted to write a composition to play. We just need to find a singer and a guitarist, and the whole site will be blown away by "The Harvest Moon, in 6-part harmony featuring electric keyboard".

Agent Murphy: Sounds like it'll be absolutely beautiful, 5031. We'll make sure to stop by once you start blastin'.

SCP-5031 gives Agent Murphy 6 thumbs up.

SCP-644: Spooky. Can't believe it, the guy with six arms got out before I could?

The table laughs, and Dr. Huxtable bids the group farewell, following SCP-5031 into the general recreational area.

Agent Nguyen: Hold on, doesn't the file say 5031 vanishes when you try and look at it?

Agent Murphy: Turns out, it all chalked up to stage fright. It was its choice to vanish the whole time.

Agent Nguyen: Huh. Freaky.

SCP-644: I absolutely get that. Back when me and the siblings used to do music together, I was always happy to let 'em all have the spotlight. It sounds kinda funny to say it out loud, but I sweat and freeze up there. Guess you could say I don't do so hot.

Agent Murphy: So, what, you just watched?

SCP-644: Hell Nah! I was the marketing guy, their manager, the one who kept it all together when the stars get feisty. A real Brian Epstein to their Johns, Ringos, Georges, and Pauls. Money helped with the finances sometimes, but I was always the one making sure they did what they had to do. Helps a lot when you know exactly what the target audience is looking for. It didn't last forever, nothing in the world of capitalism and toys really does, which was fine. It was just nice to be all together.

Silence among the four at the table. Agent Murphy gives a look of concern toward SCP-644.

Agent Murphy: Hot, if you don't mind me asking… how long has it been since you've all been together? Like, really together. Not the same-room-but-split-up-intentionally we do here.

SCP-644: Ha! That's a good question. Well, if Stripes ended up here in '95, and I've been here since… gonna be honest, I don't really have a clue. You sort of lose track of time in here, y'know?

Agent Murphy and Agent Nguyen give each other an awkward look.

SCP-644: What am I saying, 'course you know. You're here instead of being with your kids.

Both agents sigh.

Agent Nguyen: Uh. Yeah. We needed a high-security detail tonight, bigger than last year, so they requested a few of us to stay behind tonight and help. It's a gamble letting all the anomalies out-

Agent Murphy: No offense.

SCP-644: None taken, fully deserved.

Director Moose: There's already a risk present bringing in so many facets of the Foundation. The logistics of making sure memetics and antimemetics don't end up in a twist alone is a headache. All of us knew what the precautions were going to have to be tonight, and we took them.

SCP-644: So… you're all sacrificing your Halloween… for us?

Agent Murphy laughs.

Agent Murphy: Yeah, pretty much. Look, it's not the funnest sacrifice to make, but it's not like mine'll be alone tonight. Thank god-

Director Moose raises an eyebrow.

Agent Murphy: Sorry, gods. Anyway, it feels weird, but as I said, it's the job. I hate to say it, I really do, but I've missed worse.

Silence. The rest of the table reacts when Mr. Hot goes to wipe a tear from his face.

Agent Nguyen: Are you- are you crying? You can do that?

SCP-644: I'm not crying, I'm just… I'm thankful, really. You all and your Foundation don't need to be doing this for us. It was surprising enough as it is to get free time, and now I… we, get to see our brothers and sister and have fun together for some of the first time in years? I just wish I could pay you back is all, y'know?

The rest of the table smiles, and Agent Murphy pats SCP-644 on the back.

Agent Murphy: Like I said, it's the job.

Director Moose: And there's no need to thank us. We're a modern foundation, and solitary confinement doesn't do us much good for morale.

Agent Nguyen: But in terms of paying me back, what would you say you were thinking?

SCP-644 pauses to think, scratching his chin.

SCP-644: Well, your daughter's getting a bit older now, so I can't imagine a lot of our work would appeal, but I do know she loves tennis. I'd probably go with the Dr. Wondertainment™'s "RACKET OF REALITY"! Puts the pep in your step, your game, and your ability to transcend first-dimensional tennis!

The table goes silent, all raising their eyes in surprise.

SCP-644: I'm fuckin' with you, made that one up.

Agent Murphy, Agent Nguyen, Director Moose and SCP-644 burst into laughter. SCP-644 notices something in the north hallway, and waves in that direction. A minute later, SCP-1799 approaches the table with SCP-2428 and sits down, smiling and silently waving. He fist bumps SCP-644, and Agent Murphy looks at SCP-2428 and smiles.
SCP-2428: What can I say, I'm just a natural.
SCP-644: Oh Laugh, I don't know if you noticed, but I think you tracked in something with you…

SCP-644 gives a light punch to the air in the direction of SCP-2428.
SCP-2428: Ah shut it, Hot. One day, I'll be real enough to kick your ass!
SCP-644: I'll be ready, ya slip of paper.

The doors between the general recreation area and the central hall slam open. SCP-3988 walks through, seemingly looking around for something. Dr. Everwood, wearing a clown and robot costume, looks around the central hall before going into the general recreation area and closes the door again. SCP-3988 continues to look around the central hall and approaches the table where Agent Nguyen is sitting.


SCP-3537 turns around from the group of younger anomalies, all of which are staring at SCP-3988. SCP-3537 has currently polymorphed his appearance to resemble that of a skeleton costume. Agent Nguyen stands up from the table and approaches SCP-3988.

Agent Nguyen: Napoleon, Napoleon, buddy, come on, there's no need to pick fights here.

SCP-3988: I'd seriously beg to differ, my foundation friend, 'cus this guy's looking like he's got a real bone to pick with me! Hell, I don't even know if he knows what bones look like!

Director Moose: SCP-3988, please remember the rules of engagement at this party. That is to say, we're not getting engaged in fights. So please stop.

SCP-3988: WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, Madamn Moosey, I've spent this whole night being forced at subpar, undone recreation of mine own wonderful form! It's enough to drive a guy bone-kers, and now I know THIS stretchy outside-the-bone man's been responsible for some of the worst yet! A bunch of IMPOSTERS they are, I swear!

Dr. Ross, exiting the lavatories, immediately turned around and reentered upon the mention of the word imposters.

Agent Nguyen: Alright big guy, we get it, you've had your culture of being a skeleton stripped from you, but like-

SCP-3988: Stripped like the skin from my bones, Thai my good man!

Agent Nguyen: Look, I think you can afford to drop it, please? We're looking to have a party without brawls like last year.

Agent Murphy: Mann really is a feral beast on sugar and alcohol.

SCP-3988: I think you're all getting the wrong idea here! You think I'm going to beat up and slash or brawl with this shapey individual? I don't know if you've all noticed, but I'm pretty skin and bones right now, minus the bones. I just wanna have a talk, that's all! Nyeah!

SCP-644: How often do you say "Nyeah"?

SCP-3988: About as often as you con people, Reigen!

SCP-644: CON PEOPLE? I'm offended by the accusations you're layin' down here, buddy. I am a legitimate employee of the Wondertainment Company, I'll have you know.

SCP-644 pulls his business card out of his pocket and shows it to SCP-3988.

Agent Murphy: Hold on, why does Napoleon know about Mob Psy-

SCP-1799: …Hot, you should probably leave it, it's-
SCP-2428: What the hell is going on?
SCP-3988 cackles manically, consisting of the word "Nyeah" rapidly and at different pitches.

SCP-3988: Good one, you sad clown man! Anyway, I don't know who you are either, but I sure ain't your buddy yet, pal!

SCP-644: Well clearly, because it sounds like you're pickin' a fight with my brother, and that kinda stuff doesn't fly.

SCP-3988: Your brother, you say? So you know this Shapey fella? Please, if you could be so kind to redirect me to him, his costumes, they need work. And not to toot my own horn, but I do believe myself to be a bit familiar with the topic of the skeletal!

At this point, the anomalies and foundation personnel in the central hall have begun to slowly gather around SCP-644 and SCP-3988 arguing, including Dr. Placeholder and SCP-2284. SCP-105 and SCP-079 are ushering the younger anomalies to look away and continue drawing their pictures.

SCP-644: Sorta sounds like you're being a hassle here, skelly boy. No wonder you're kidless.

SCP-3988: I'm a skeleton, if you were expecting something else, I think you need the biology lesson as well.

SCP-644: I'd call you a bonehead, but I feel like it would be a little redundant.

SCP-3537 pushes through the crowd and stands between SCP-644 and SCP-3988.

SCP-3537: Ok ok ok ok ok this can stop now, I'm Mr. Shapey, please stop fighting with Mr. Hot!

SCP-3988: Ah, so you're the imposter I've been hearing so much about!

Dr. Ross, exiting the lavatories again, raises a middle finger and exists the central hall.

SCP-3537: Uh, yeah, I guess? Look man, do you dislike my ideas or something?

SCP-3988: I think they could use a little adjustment, considering the inaccuracies littered all over the place. Do you even know how many ribs a person has?

SCP-3537: Look dude, I just wanted to have a silly Halloween costume for the kids, it's not that big of a deal, is it?

SCP-3988: I think it's plainly offensive, Mr. Shapey, if that really is your true name!

SCP-3537: If it's really that much of a problem, I can just-

SCP-3537 polymorphs to change his appearance to that of a stereotypical grey alien.

SCP-3537: -swap it up a bit. Happy?

SCP-3988: This is… satisfactory!

The entire room goes silent.

Agent Nguyen: Sorry, that was ALL IT TOOK?

Agent Murphy: I am. I am stunned.

Dr. Placeholder: That is the highest number of bone jokes I've heard condensed into a minute, ever.

SCP-2284: I disagree!

Dr. Placeholder: I mean, that's your opinion I guess?

Agent Nguyen: Are you two really going to do this aga-

Agent Nguyen is interrupted by the sound of a wet explosion coming from the general recreational area. Bubbles, a sudsy clear substance and candy corn can be seen splattered across the door windows. The doors slam open, and Dr. Gerald and SCP-909 run out towards the group. SCP-909 is wearing a dark grey fedora and suit jacket, not seeming to be dressing up as anybody specific.

Agent Murphy: Uh, what the fuck?


Dr. Gerald stops and looks at the crowd of personnel and anomalies.


SCP-909: Yeah, there's been a… a…

Dr. Gerald: Oh come on man, has it already been-

Agent Murphy: We don't have time for this, what the hell is going on?

Agent Murphy, Agent Nguyen, Director Moose, Dr. Gerald, SCP-644, 909, 3537, 3988, 1799 holding 2428, and some of the other personnel gathered run to the general recreational area. SCP-105 and SCP-079 begin attempting to care for some of the younger anomalies, a few of which have begun freaking out as a result of the loud noises. Dr. Placeholder and SCP-2284 remain standing next to each other, watching the door.

Dr. Placeholder: Is that… candy corn?

SCP-2284: Uh…. No?

Dr. Placeholder: You're right, that would be ridiculous.

Let me tell you something. I've been at this Foundation long enough to hear almost all of the personnel's "WHAT THE FUCK" moments. The point where, truly, their understanding of what's going on around them has been so crumbled and ripped to shreds, that it reaches a peak of brain-fuckery. I've seen it happen to agents, encountering an anomaly that just tore their best friend in half. I've heard it from researchers, discovering something disgusting, or worse, discovering nothing. The 4290 discovery encompassed a pretty sizeable group, actually.

"WHAT THE FUCK" moments are the pinnacle of an employee of the Foundation's career here. They more often than not set it into stone that this terribly insane world we live in, really is insane. And you can always notice them too! People around here say "what the fuck" a lot, no wonder, but there's always that one.

I felt bad that Agent Murphy's was the discovery of the bubbles and candy corn. At least, it sounded like it. Kind of hard to hear through the aforementioned mountain.

Site-19, general recreational area.

Agent Murphy, Agent Nguyen, Director Moose, Dr. Gerald, SCP-644, 909, 3537, 3988, 1799, and 2428 enter the general recreational area. The tables set up around the room have been knocked over, and foundation personnel and anomalies are scattered across the room. A 5-meter-tall pile of soap and candy corn peaks in the center of the room, both substances of which are spread across the entirety of the general recreational area. The walls, tables, furniture, and some of the personnel in the room have soap and candy corn stuck to them. SCP-1908 is laying on the ground, half of his body submerged in the pile, his hazmat suit costume having been ripped near the drainage tube. The body of SCP-1007 lays face-first on the top of a table, his ghost costume having been pulled down to show the keyhole on his back. SCP-2855 is frantically searching for something within the central pile. SCP-527 is nowhere to be found. SCP-913 sits on the ground next to the table holding SCP-1007, patting his stomach and groaning. Dr. Everwood and SCP-905 are assisting the other personnel in cleaning themselves off. Site-17 Director Graham is standing near the doorway to the room, arguing with Agents Felix and Lament, both of which are restraining SCP-2396. SCP-629 is talking to SCP-2287, both of which are looking angrily toward Director Graham. Upon noticing the party entering the room, Director Graham immediately turns his attention to Director Moose. Agent Murphy walks past Graham and stares into the room. She places her hands on her head and screams.

Agent Murphy: WHAT. THE. FUCK.

A voice can be heard from within the pile of soap and candy corn.

Unknown: There it is!

Director Graham: You've really done it this time, you unprofessional hacks. I swear, once Overwatch command hears about this, everyone at this site is going to be terminated on sight!

Director Moose: Calm yourself from the abrasive and offensive statements, Thomas, you're out of line. How did this mess happen?

Director Graham: I'll tell you how it happened, Moose. Because of your "reintegration" or whatever you shmucks call it, these anomalies have caused serious damage to the integrity of this halloween celebration and have made it clear they should NOT be permitted to participate in such events.

SCP-2396 scowls at Director Graham and attempts to jump at him, being pulled back by Agents Lament and Felix.

SCP-2396: That stuckup ass is lying! He's the one who started the whole thing!

Director Graham: And now they think they have the right to argue with us? Good god-

Director Moose gives Director Graham an angry glare.

Director Graham: Sorry, good GODS, Tilda, what have you done to 19?

Agent Murphy approaches SCP-2287 and SCP-629.

Agent Murphy: Headless, Brass, what the hell happened here? This looks like-

SCP-629: Sweetie and Soap, yes, but there's a reasonable explanation for all of this, and that Director Graham fellow is fibbing through his teeth.

Agent Murphy: You gotta understand my doubt here, since the last time I checked, Graham doesn't make… candy corn? Sticky candy corn? I thought I could trust you all, I really did, and I thought that with all the agents here… how in the world did you guys manage to destroy Halloween?

Director Graham and Director Moose are heard bickering in the background.

SCP-2287: When Napoleon Boneyparts left to find Shapey, that Graham dude started going on this rant about how ridiculous the skips being here were.

SCP-629: More accurately, he said it was "like giving a dog a steak".

SCP-2287: It kind of devolved, and he started ragging on our costumes, saying how stupid everyone was. I don't think it was a "my costume is better" type of thing, the guy just seems to hate Halloween.

SCP-2396: Yeah, and then the prick started making fun of Headless!

Director Moose stops arguing with Director Graham and looks towards Ms. Sweetie, concerned.

Director Moose: Sorry, what?

SCP-644 is across the room, looking around at the mess. SCP-3537 has increased his height and is now attempting to remove pieces of candy corn that are stuck to the wall out of reach.

SCP-2287: Yeah, the guy said my costume was stupid and called me an "example of what happens when we let the Foundation fall to trivial matters". Then he started yelling at me to take the pumpkin off and show who I was, going on and on about how he had seniority or something.

SCP-629: I don't think Mr. Graham was aware of Headless' identity, as a result of his costume blocking the… primary trait he possesses.

Director Graham: I- I did not refer to the object as stupid, I simply… I criticized it! Is criticism not allowed? And yes, this is a PERFECT example of how the Foundation is succumbing to nonsensical tricks from the objects we contain!

SCP-2287: So he started yelling at me, and obviously I don't think my costume is stupid, so I told him to leave me alone, and yeah I know you said not to fight anyone but in all fairness, he started it first.

SCP-629: I believe Money attempted to intervene, but needed to stop Mr. Fish from destroying the room after he got wasted.

SCP-2287: So we're arguing, and he's saying I need to listen to him because he's "Director Graham of Site-17, and I'm a big evil asshole"-

Agent Murphy: I gather you're paraphrasing.

SCP-2287: So I decide, and yes this goes against the costume code, enough is enough, and I take my pumpkin off. He freaks out, and starts screaming about how "oh, of course, it was an object" and that this was another example of Director Moose's "idiocracy in 19".

Director Moose glares at Director Graham, who has begun to turn a shade of red and is scowling at SCP-2287.

SCP-2396: Asshat interrupted my beautiful solo of "The Monster Mash" with his angry raving too, so I walked over to give the guy a piece of my mind, and then I learned he was yelling at Headless? I'm not having any that kind of nonsense here, not at my BROTHER of all people, so I get involved, giving this rat a piece of my mind, and-

Agent Felix: And that's when it all went to shit.

Agent Lament: When Sweetie started to get angry, I guess she got pretty stressed, and then… well, versions of SCP-2396-1 started appearing around the room, and fast. I say versions because they were candy corn. And they weren't anomalous either.

Agent Felix: One dropped out of the sky onto Troy's head.

Agent Lament: We hadn't noticed the altercation until then, so once the room started filling up fast, we found Sweetie and restrained her. It didn't really seem to help though, as you can probably tell.

SCP-2287: So there was candy corn everywhere, and people started falling over, tripping over candy corn and bumping into each other, and… Soap tripped. Slipped, fell, and pierced his suit right on one of 5031's instruments.

Agent Felix: It was almost draining time too, so there was a lot of soap.

SCP-629: Not to mention the already high quantity of candy corn still falling all over the place, we sort of lost track of Soap fast. I mean, here's there right now.

SCP-1908 gives a very weak thumbs up, and then faceplants back into the floor.

SCP-629: But he and a lot of other people were buried for a while. We still haven't found Fish, Dr. Clef, and half of the 'Party Poopers', though I suspect they're stuck… in ther

A single candy corn falls off the massive pile, landing on SCP-1908's head. Dr. Everwood approaches the group, wiping candy corn off of her jacket.

Dr. Everwood: At least we learned that Sweetie and Soap react very unexpectedly under stress. Sweetie was partially within her portfolio, but these candy corns aren't anomalous, as far as current exposure goes. That tracks I guess. She claims to not have known about this "feature" though. The Doctor probably wanted to give you a little something for the holiday, eh?

SCP-2396: Believe me, sister, there's no way I would leave this out of my resume if I knew. But alas, Doctor told me nothin'. Thought Headless was the Halloween guy.

Dr. Everwood: And Soap… he just makes more soap, and faster. Or we think it's soap? It's been found to have excellent makeup removal properties, though I think most of the costumed staff would have preferred to find out another way rather than a blast to the face. It's a fascinating and at the moment seemingly harmless feature.

SCP-913: Tastes… pretty good too.

SCP-913 falls to his side and groans.

Director Moose: This has been probably one of the most ridiculous stories I have heard in my years working here, but alright. Murphy, work on finding the rest of the missing Misters and then send them back to their cells for the night. Everwood and Nguyen, you two can handle personnel. Felix, Lament, candy corn duty. And Director Graham, I'd like to have a serious word with you in my office right now. I think Overwatch command, as well as our resident Ethics Committee liaison, would be interested in hearing how you acted tonight. Speaking of, where is Cimmerian?

Dr. Cimmerian walks through the door to the general recreational area, wearing a Man in the Yellow Hat costume, and sipping a cup of coffee. His expression changes to surprise upon entering the room.

Director Moose: This isn't the worst mess we've dealt with, so chop chop people.

Agent Murphy: With all due respect ma'am, there's no missing Misters. I mean, we know Fish is in the candy corn, but the other ones are all here.

Director Moose: I'd advise you to count again, Leah. There were 16 misters under your supervision tonight, with Stripes, Scary, Redd, and Lost being out discluded from the list. Subtract the buried Mr. Fish, that's 15, but I only count 14.

Agent Murphy does a quick head count and gasps.

Agent Murphy: Money, who was in your group again?

SCP-2855: Chameleon, Soap, Brass, Hungry, Sweetie, Life-and-Death, Fish, Headless and myself.

Agent Murphy: That doesn't- That doesn't make any sense. All of Hot's group is here, I saw them come in, and all of yours… wait.

SCP-2287: What?

Agent Murphy: Why didn't you mention Moon?

SCP-2855: Mr. Moon had told me he was going outside to talk to you about something. I assumed he had come in with you and Hot?

Agent Murphy: I haven't seen Moon since he went into this room with you.

Agent Lament: Well he wasn't here with any of us for most of the night.

Agent Murphy: Did… did we get breached by the geriatric Little Mister?

I think it took them half an hour to find Moon. It seemed like half an hour at least. I heard Gerald scream. Loud and funny scream.

Site-19 External Cameras, east side.

SCP-917 is sitting on the hill, staring at the sky above him. His facial features are fully visible as a result of the rare full moon. He is wearing a cheap astronaut suit Halloween costume, the helmet of which is sitting next to him on the hill. A figure approaches him, seemingly disoriented.

SCP-920: Hey Moon. Do you happen to know where I-

SCP-920 looks directly at the Site-19 security camera.

SCP-920: Oh. These guys!

SCP-917: Ah, Lost my boy. Sit, sit, please.

SCP-920 takes a seat on the hill next to SCP-917, who gives him a slow, shakey pat on the back, before looking back to the sky.

SCP-917: It's a beautiful night tonight, Lost. Far nicer than the ones in the facility

SCP-920: I can imagine. Never liked those cell walls anyway.

SCP-917 continues to look up at the sky. He smiles.

SCP-917: Do you know what night it is, Lost?

SCP-920: Uh… no? Sorry, I kind of lose track of time easily. Heh, lose track.

SCP-917: It's Halloween, Lost. All Hallow's Eve! A day where celebrations occur the best under the night. And for the first time in many years, under the light of a full moon.

SCP-920: Neat. You've got your whole face then!

SCP-917: Yes Lost. I can see clear as the day, and I can smell as fresh as roses, and smile with the giddy of childhood. I haven't seen the sky on this night since, well, it must be decades since.

SCP-920: Well, I'm sure this must be nice. I better get going though. I imagine they'll probably notice you soon, and I don't really feel like getting more people lost with me when I leave. See you around, Moo-

SCP-917 grabs SCP-920's hand as he goes to stand up, catching him off guard. Moon continues to stare toward the sky.

SCP-917: When the doctor took our memories away, Lost, she certainly got rid of a lot. But not everything. I think it must have been on purpose, because I can still remember one thing from my youth.

The light from the moon appears to brighten slightly.

SCP-917: I couldn't have been more than 10 years old, on a brisk, Halloween night. The folks on my street put up all sorts of decorations, cutouts of monsters, handing out sweets to all of us little ones who passed on by. Though the air was cold, and sometimes uncomfortable, it was worth the time spent frigid for all the candy we'd receive, so different from the distinct lack thereof our parents would let us buy for the rest of the year. It was enough to make a little Mister crack a smile.

The brightness of the moon continues to increase, and the stars surrounding it in the sky begin to twinkle faster. SCP-920 notices this and becomes visibly panicked.

SCP-920: Hey, Moony, cute story, what's going on up-

SCP-917: I went as a superhero of some kind. Superman, yes. The Man of Steel. That jumpsuit, mostly covered by a thick winter jacket my mother made me wear, made me feel strong. Like I had extraordinary powers, even though I didn't. Like I was a hero of some kind.

SCP-917's skin begins to lightly glow, and appears younger.

SCP-917: Hah, superhero. I suppose that's funny now, considering what I can do now.

As the moon continues to increase in luminosity, the color begins to shift, changing from a stark white to a light shade of orange. Stars surrounding the moon inexplicably appear to begin moving throughout the sky, changing orientation to seemingly random positions. SCP-920 pulls his arm away from SCP-917 and steps back, looking at the sky.

SCP-920: What the fuck is going on, Moon.

SCP-917: When I came home from trick-or-treating that night, and had gorged myself on the candy I had so generously collected from my neighbors, my mother sent me to bed, to try and sleep off the sugar rush. I tried sleeping, but something kept distracting me. A light. Shining through my window, bright like I had never really seen it before. I crawled to my windowsill, dragging my superman cape behind me, and took a look through, at the night sky above. There it was. The moon. Shining down on the Halloween streets, on the candy and costumes, on the whole of the night, on me. For all my 9 Halloweens before, there had never been such a full and beautiful moon in the sky. I was bewildered by this. Even if there had been full moons before, nothing compared to this one. The light it sent to us, here on our little rock in the infinite expanse that is the night-

SCP-917 reaches his hand to the sky, pointing at the area around the moon. The stars shift slowly, following the direction of his pointed finger. The patterns of the moon's surface indicate it is rotating to face the same as the stars. SCP-917 displays no signs of his normal arthritis infliction.

SCP-917: It was calling to me, Lost. It reached its beams down from the night above and told me something. I can't remember what. The Doctor, she seemed to have cut that out. But it was important. I knew it was then, and I know it was now. It delivered me a message, one only I could hear. Just me and the moon, in a conversation beyond the rest of a quiet world. Whispering secrets I could not have known otherwise. Telling me tales beyond my wildest dreams.

SCP-917 raises his pointed finger to face directly upwards, leading the stars and moon to follow suit. He appears to move his hand around as if he were writing something. The orientation of the stars is cut off from view. The moon has now developed a deep orange coloring. SCP-920 raises his hands to his head with an expression of disbelief.


SCP-917: Of course, I fell asleep eventually. The traveling through my neighborhood had made me quite tired, especially with the sheer amount of candy in my pillowcase. I hated to leave the moon, and its wonderous shining light. I'd like to remember it coming back to me in my dreams. I wouldn't know if it did now.


SCP-917: That night stuck with me for a long time, Mr. Lost. It was one of the most important moments of my life. It's the most important I can remember now. That night, my boy, it showed me the spirit of this universe. The beauty which shines from it. It also gave me my first love, the love for the holiday on which I had seen this heavenly wonder above me. I may not remember much else around me, or what came after, or who I was before I was Mr. Moon, but I always remember that night. I will always remember Halloween.

SCP-917 sighs, and lowers his arm, sitting peacefully once again. SCP-920 continues to stare at the sky.

SCP-917: I like to believe that the Doctor, with all his wizardry and power, somehow knew about that night. That he looked at me, looked into my head, looked at who I was, and discovered my appreciation for the moon. I like to believe this because it means, even though I am far from a young boy anymore, that that night will always remain a part of who I am. That the moon will always stay with me. I'm old now, Lost. The Doctor may have made us to last forever as toys, but I won't always be in the same shape as the first release. I will admit to you, Lost, that it hurts sometimes. To move, or to eat. But unlike some of the others, I rarely find myself begging for mercy, or complaining about where I am. I may have an ability that some others would think of a curse. But I see it as a gift. A gift to always be connected to the moon. A gift that will always remind me of that night, and one that lets me see the sky like this when that night comes again.

SCP-917 smiles and lays down on the hillside. SCP-920 is still staring at the sky, now crying. It is unclear if he is crying as a result of SCP-917's story, or fear. The sound of a large door slamming open can be heard, as Agent Murphy, Dr. Gerald, and other Foundation armed personnel run outside. As they do, SCP-920 runs away, disappearing into the dark of the night.

Agent Murphy: How the FUCK did you manage to-

Dr. Gerald, with his moth gaping open, taps on the shoulder of Agent Murphy and points upwards. Both look up.

Agent Murphy: Since fucking when could he do THAT.

Numerous armed personnel quickly apprehend SCP-917, who goes along cooperatively, trying his best to keep eyes focused on the moon as they reenter Site-19.

I've never heard Murphy so angry. Like, genuinely pissed off. I don't think any of the Misters are going to be allowed free time for the next, what did she say, forever? Probably won't last that long, nor does Murphy actually have the authority to decide that sort of thing, but all of them were in hot shit for sure. It felt like Murphy had a lot more to say before she stormed off to her dormitory, but the rest of the agents and Gerald told her to just drop it. For the better, really. Most of Misters sounded like they felt really bad. Well, except Lie. He sounded very… something or other. I honestly couldn't tell you.

After the brief scolding, all the Misters were very quickly taken back to their cells. They all offered to help clean up and fix stuff, but at that point, I think the staff had gotten tired of antics, and just wanted the party to end. The bubbles really left a bad taste in… everything.

And that's up to now. The story of Halloween, 2022, when the Misters got to hang out, and when it was decided, until further notice, they're never going to be allowed to do it again. It was also the day we unanimously agreed to shadowban Director Graham. Grimey fucker. So yeah. A story of frights, freaks, tricks, treats, and a lot of soap.

Who am I? My name is Dr. Alto Clef, I am a senior staff at the SCP Foundation, I'm wasted as all hell would have it, and I have been trapped under a mountain of bubbles and candy corn with Mr. Fish for… 45 minutes now?


Mr. Fish has spent the last 20 minutes attempting to drown himself in soap. I don’t think it’s working.


Amen to that, Fish. I fucking love Halloween.

Addendum 917-3: 31 minutes after the incident involving SCP-917 during the Site-19 Halloween party, in which SCP-917 seemingly rearranged the stars and moon in the night sky to spell the words “HAPPY HALLOWEEN”, Subject requested presence of Agent Murphy, having found the following document within his left coat pocket. SCP-917 and all other members of the "Little Misters" group of anomalies claimed to have never seen this document before. SCP-2287, being the only anomaly listed within the document suggested this may be a "meaningless holiday reskin" for the Little Misters. Anomalies possibly relating to Dr. Wondertainment are to be referred to Agent Murphy to determine if a matching description is found pertaining to the list.

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