1 April

Site-19: Undisclosed Location, Michigan, United States of America

"Is that what he normally looks like?"

Director Tilda Moose raised an eyebrow at Researcher Calvin, then looked back through the observation glass. "No, he doesn't normally look like a monkey."

Dr. Daniel Aeslinger picked at his fur, then peered up at the one-way mirror mournfully.

"Well, I never met him, so." Calvin shrugged. "Why do you think he's so sad?"

Moose tried raising the other eyebrow this time, to see if it made a stronger impression. "Because he's been turned into a monkey?"

The door to the observation room swung open, and the leering visage of Alto Clef appeared. Moose visibly did not recoil, in a recoiling sort of way. "No, you may not feed him peanuts."

Clef grinned. "I come bearing news! This is happening everywhere. We've got confirmed reports of spontaneous monkification at 43, 95, 119 and 120, and several suspected cases to boot."

Moose raised both eyebrows this time. "What does a suspected case of turning into a monkey look like?"

Clef's grin widened. "Seven different people have tried to report me so far today, for starters."

Moose nodded. "Should probably stop throwing your poop at the new researchers."

"Yes," said Calvin.

"I didn't choose the welcome wagon committee, the welcome wagon commitee chose me." Clef looked down at Aeslinger. "I think he's sad because he's so recently monkified, he has no lice in his fur to eat."

Calvin gagged, but Moose considered. "That does make sense," she said. "And it makes sense that you're the one who figured it out."

"Hey," said Calvin, mid-gag. "Hasn't something like this happened before?"

Moose narrowed her eyes.

"Like fifty fucking times," sighed Clef. "Like every other day."

Calvin snapped his fingers. "Didn't one of the senior staff have this happen to them once?"

"No," said Clef.

"No," said Moose.

"I'm almost sure they did, though?" Calvin moved towards the door. "We should call them up and see what caused it. I can almost remem—"

"Shut up," said Moose.

"—ber who it was. Oh, shit, wasn't—"

"Shut the fuck up," said Clef.

"—but wasn't it Dr. Br—"

Clef punched Calvin in the nose. The younger man fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

"Serves you right," said Moose.


Arcadia Headquarters: Irving, California, United States of America

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Dunn isn't seeing anyone today."

The man with the lean and hungry expression looked down his nose at her. She got that a lot; as the female secretary of Arcadia's chief executive, she was used to condescension from would-be game developers. "I know he's in," the man replied, sounding precisely as snotty as he looked. "I can hear him banging away in there. Maybe I can lighten his mood!"

"Oh, he's in a great mood."

A primal shriek erupted from behind Dan "Wolf" Dunn's closed door, as if in direct response.

"He's having a very productive day."

A very particular sound, which almost could not have been anything but a keyboard being systematically demolished via percussion with an Xbox 360 controller swung like a flail, clattered through the door.

"He's getting a lot of work done."

The man stared at her. "He sounds like he's destroying his office."

She nodded. "Yes, well, he's been playing games all afternoon, for research. Normally he's not in the mood, but he really turned the corner today!"

She beamed at him.

"He says he understands the gamers now."

The unmistakeable vocalizations of a Rhesus macaque filled the air for the next two minutes, followed by what might have been the word "Fortnite" in a high-pitched squeal.


Site-120: Silesian Voivodeship, Republic of Poland

Dr. Jessie Rivera felt a growing sense of unease as she watched the security footage. "This isn't funny. Right?"

Dr. Magdaleine Cornwell, standing beside her, nodded. "It's very not funny."

The screen was showing a corridor on the Site's lower sublevel, where the technical apparatus was stored. A monkey in a pressed black suit and labcoat, wearing white gloves covered with glowing runes, was barreling towards a pair of armed agents. The agents fired their rifles; the tranquilizer darts impacted uselessly on the tiled floor, as the newly-limber Director Daniel Asheworth suddenly leapt onto the ceiling and swung forward on a light fixture.

"At least he's behaving like a monkey," Cornwell remarked. "Not like himse—"

Asheworth pulled the light fixture off the ceiling and landed on the floor in front of the agents. He turned it towards them, the runes glowed red-hot, and both men fell to the ground as the bulb shattered in a sudden burst of light.

Rivera squinted. "So much for that."

"Never seen that spell before," said Cornwell.

Rivera opened her mouth, frowned, and opened it again. "Monkeyshine."

Cornwell glared at her, but did not disagree.

The next pair of agents were sent sprawling when Asheworth darted up the walls and turned the floor into a slippery black morass. After a moment's hesitation, Cornwell suggested "Grease monkey?"

Rivera winced, and nodded.

The next five minutes were an exercise in pain. Three agents trapped against a wall when Asheworth manifested a miniature jail cell around them — "Monkey bars." Two more knocked down by a torrent of tiny yellow creatures, which they would spend the rest of the day coughing up — "Sea monkeys." An electronic lock reprogrammed not to allow the Director to pass, effortlessly circumvented by a few quick keystrokes by gnarled simian fingers — "Code monkey." A hastily thrown-up barricade of old machinery deftly disassembled with a magically-manifested tool — "Monkey wrench." By the time Asheworth was in the elevator, both women had their heads in their hands.

"On the plus side," said Rivera, "The rules for this version of his magic make sense."


Site-43: Ipperwash Provincial Park, Ontario, Canada

"I don't get it. He's just… doing his job?" Dr. Placeholder McDoctorate watched the once, and hopefully future, Dr. Daniil Sokolsky through the one-way glass. Sokolsky was filling out paperwork, and scowling in a particularly pouty manner.

"Yeah," said Dr. Lillian Lillihammer. She shrugged.

"He's been turned into a monkey. And he's just doing his job?"

"Yeah." She shrugged again.

"He doesn't even look mad. He just looks kinda… defeated."


"Okay, well if it were m—"

"He's Russian."

"Ohhhhh." McDoctorate nodded.


Area-09: Great Basin Desert, California, United States of America

Dr. Sophia Light glanced down at the latest sheet, and nodded thoughtfully. "I had my doubts, you know."

Her assistant, Vaux, worked a crick out of his neck and yawned. "How long are we going to do this?"

"As long as he keeps printing money." She signed her name with a flourish, and added the sheet to the rising pile. "Alright, Dan, here's a curve ball: 079."

Seated at an old children's school desk, the monkey formerly known as Dr. Dan ███████ considered the matter for a moment, released a single noncommittal "eek," and began hammering away at his typewriter.

"How did you even come up with this?" Vaux asked.

Light smiled. "Decommissioning proposals are hardly the works of Shakespeare, and our Dr. Dan is worth a million monkeys any day of the week."

Site-95/Site-119 Interlink

D_BAKER_95 This can't be it.
D_REIGEN_119 It definitely is, though.
D_BAKER_95 I refuse to believe it. There has to be a better explanation.
D_REIGEN_119 There isn't. Sokolsky only buys groceries on sale, and his local supermarket overbought on these things. Dr. Dan forgets to eat, most days, and just steals from the company refrigerator when he remembers. The fridge at Area-09 was stocked with these, because the Foundation only buys groceries on sale too.
D_BAKER_95 What about Aeslinger? He doesn't strike me as the kind to eat snack-sized smoothies.
D_REIGEN_119 He's been on a diet, and he thought it was yogurt.
D_BAKER_95 This is such bullshit.
D_REIGEN_119 True bullshit, though. You wanna start the file, or should I?
D_BAKER_95 I guess I will. Hang in there!
D_REIGEN_119 You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.
D_BAKER_95 God, listen to us.


Proposing Researchers: Dr. Danielle Baker, Dr. Danielle Reigen

Proposed Object Class: Keter

Proposed Description: SCP-XXXX is an anomaly surrounding the "Danimals" novelty children's brand of snack smoothies…

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