rating: +111+x

Original logo of GoI-021

Item #: SCP-3155

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: Each current extant SCP-3155 instance is to be kept in a Humanoid Containment Chamber Type B; the cells are to be outfitted with precautionary measures designed to counter the occupants' specific individual phenomena. SCP-3155 instances are to be kept in Site-49's B-Wing.

Foundation Operatives have been installed in all levels of the American government with the express purpose of identifying and locating previously uncontained SCP-3155 instances. Additionally, Operatives are to infiltrate GoI-021 to collect information on possible SCP-3155 instances, their locations, their abilities, etc.

When possible SCP-3155 instances have been located, MTF-Iota-10 ("Damn Feds") is to capture them and bring them to Site-42 for questioning before being relocated to Site-43. The relocation is to occur with the help of MTF Omega-12 ("Achilles Heels"), guarding the particular SCP-3155 instance in order to avoid possible capture by hostile Groups Of Interest.

Description: SCP-3155 is the collective designation for 200~ anomalous individuals1 that originally worked with GoI-021 ("Pinkerton National Detective Agency")2 from 1883 to 1905 as a part of the organization's anti-anomalous division. SCP-3155 encompasses various different age groups, socio-economic backgrounds, political and religious beliefs, and varying levels of hostility. Due to GoI-021's lack of cooperation with Foundation operatives and GoI-021's lack of consistent recordkeeping regarding SCP-3155 instances, it is currently unknown how many instances are currently alive, or the total number of SCP-3155 instances that worked for GoI-021.


SCP-3155 instances. Circa 1891

SCP-3155 instances often have anomalous abilities primarily focusing on combat, although there have been documented cases of SCP-3155 instances controlling the Hume level within an area, effectively acting as a primitive Scranton Reality Anchor prior to its creation by Prometheus Labs in the early 19██s. Other documented cases have shown flesh manipulation, psychokinetic control, and extreme regenerative abilities.

SCP-3155 instances were originally employed by GoI-021 in order to supply the demand for anomalous guards and detectives prior to the establishment of the Foundation in 1899 and the creation of a federal agency to deal with anomalous criminals.3 Prior to Pinkerton, anomalous felons often had very little national opposition within the United States, primarily being handled by civilian or local law enforcement. These groups were often ill-prepared to deal with anomalous criminals due to lack of training regarding extranormal matters, along with insufficient information regarding the anomalous community.

Despite the Anti-Pinkerton Act of 1893, which made hiring GoI-021 and agencies like it illegal for the United States government, GoI-021 was still able to supply of a steady demand for anomalous agents and detectives on the local and state level within the United States until 1905, when the Foundation's activities began in earnest.

Discovery: SCP-3155 was discovered following the Foundation's establishment in 1899, when rumors of anomalous individuals working for GoI-021 began circulating the anomalous community. This was confirmed on 6-22-1900, when SCP-3155-1 was arrested by local law enforcement for attempted robbery. SCP-3155-1 was put into its own jail cell. On 6-23-1900, SCP-3155-1 was reported to have burst into flames. Intention behind this act is currently unknown.

Following this, the Foundation investigated SCP-3155-1 and its history with GoI-021. This investigation lead to the discovery of GoI-021's anomalous division, and to the discovery that over 200~ people originally worked in this division.

Addendum-3155.1: Selected Interview Logs

Dr. Henderson: How did the Agency hire you?

SCP-3155-13: I worked as a clerk in this tiny little General Store down south, near Mobile. Beautiful town, if you didn't mind the smell and poverty. And racism. But that's not important. What is important is how the man picked me up. I was closing up shop, making sure that everything was where it was, the owner always got onto me about that, always bitching and moaning an—

Dr. Henderson: Stick to the story, please.

SCP-3155-13: Heh, sorry. My mind wanders, it's a habit. Anyways, I was closing up shop, making sure that everything was clean and put up, when this man comes in. Short little man, tiny eyes as well. Looked like a rat. Smelled like one too. Seemed like a country boy, I'd reckon. I'm still behind the counter, counting the money, when I see him stroll on up. You'd never believe what happened next.

Dr. Henderson: What did he do?

SCP-3155-13: Pulled out his piece and asked for the money. Now, I'm a man of honor, but when a man with a gun tells you to give him the money, you give him the money. It wasn't my first time, but something about this time was <Pause> different.

Dr. Henderson: Different how?

SCP-3155-13: Dunno. But it was different. Something in the air felt off and strange, like when you're high up on a cliff and you look down. Like that. I'm beginning to hand him the money, and something must have <Pause> I don't know, gone off.

Dr. Henderson: What do you mean "gone off"?

SCP-3155-13: The bag of money that I'm handing bursts into flames, engulfing half his hand. He runs out of the store, screaming and howling and crying. I ran out of the store and I saw him rolling around in front of the store. It was like a living inferno. His skin just melted off. I just stood there, watching and standing. I had never seen anything like that before.

Dr. Henderson: What did you do?

SCP-3155-13: What could I do? I'd seen people get killed before, but nothing, and I mean nothing like this. After he just stopped screaming and the flames fizzled out, I went to the woods and threw up and cried. What had I done? Did I just set a man on fire? No, of course not. I was imagining things, I thought. I was an atheist back then, I didn't believe in magic or Gods or anything like that. I stood there for what must have been an hour before going back to the store and seeing him there.

Dr. Henderson: Him?

SCP-3155-13: The man. He was wearing this black suit, very professional. He was just sitting on the porch of the general store, smoking a cigar. The body was gone, along with any burn marks nearby. I thought he was a cop, and I probably would have set him on fire if he didn't look so damn boring. Boring was the best thing at that moment.

Dr. Henderson: Did he offer you anything?

SCP-3155-13: Yes. The best offer in the world. A job with the Pinks.


SCP-3155-22. Circa 1887

SCP-3155-22: The woman in the black suit gave me an offer. She told me that Pinkerton could help me control my <Pause> powers, so to speak. My mom, she hadn't ever taught me to control my powers. She said it was a curse, and that it'd be better if I just died. Stopped the blood line. A curse brought from the East by flesh worshipers.

Dr. Henderson: What are the specifics of this "curse"?

SCP-3155-22: I could <Pause> craft from the flesh. I could, in a way, create life. I used to peel my flesh apart and craft a creature from it. I don't know how to explain it other than I just can. I couldn't control it much. Anything bigger than my hand would just ignore me and try to kill anything that moved. It was a thing passed to the first born of the family.

Dr. Henderson: What were the specifics of the offer?

SCP-3155-22: Simple. I work for Pinkerton, I get training and help. I get support from others. The woman, she was so nice, but so dreadfully boring. No idea why the Pinks hired her. They shipped me down south, to work near Washington, so the government could keep a good eye over Pinkerton and the rest of us.

Dr. Henderson: What did they do to you down in Washington?

SCP-3155-22: Oh, nothing much. Simple check ups, power checks, mental and physical health examines, combat readiness, boring stuff.

Dr. Henderson: Anything of note that happened down there?

SCP-3155-22: Not really. I got shot five or so times, but it healed.

Dr. Henderson: What were you working as within the organization?

SCP-3155-27: Mostly guarding. Sometimes from those damn unions, but mostly from the Hand. You'd be surprised how extreme some of them could be.

Dr. Henderson: What were the living conditions like?

SCP-3155-27: Surprisingly tidy. We all worked together, men and women, black and white, poor and rich. We were all equal in the eyes of the Agency.

Dr. Henderson: Really? No segregation?

<SCP-3155-27 smiles>

SCP-3155-27: Do you really wanna tell the people who can turn your entire body inside out with the snap of a finger that they aren't equal to the white man?

Dr. Henderson: Point taken.

SCP-3155-27: Ha! That's the Pinkerton spirit!


SCP-3155-33. Circa 1889

SCP-3155-33: The best days working for Pinkerton were when we worked for less than tolerant clients. A Klan member calls in a Pink to settle some business with a local necromancer bringing his wife back, and the Boss brings in a Catholic, a woman, and a Negro to deal with the bastard. It's a work of art, really, seeing his jaw drop the floor. The best part is when he has to say "thanks" and pay the bill.

Dr. Henderson: How common were these clients?

SCP-3155-33: We had them once or twice a month. But when they happen, oh boy, is it priceless. A spectacle to behold.

Dr. Henderson: Aside from them, what other clients did you have?

<SCP-3155-33's smile disappears>

SCP-3155-33: Well, let's just say that those clients aren't the most, um, respectable people in the world.

Dr. Henderson: How so?

SCP-3155-33: Factory owners, giant mining companies, and vast steel mills calling up the Agency to "bring in the freaks", as they put it, to put down a strike against "socialists, anarchists, and communists". Code words for the little guy, the worker. Fucked over and over and over again by the rich and powerful. Strikers, unions, eye-double-ya-double-ya, and the list grows and grows.

<SCP-3155-33 sighs>

SCP-3155-33: It's hard to put them down. It's different when it's a demon or an anomalous necrophile, freaks and murders and criminals and everything in between. But when you're dealing with a striker, a weak person, and you have to throw a fire ball in his face, it's just <Pause>, fuck, I don't know.

SCP-3155-44: They didn't have much of a choice when it came to getting rid of us. Not that it made things any less painful. Some of us left the old life behind, went out west to establish themselves anew. Some of us tried to keep the old detective life going, working as sheriffs, deputies, independents, and on and on. Some tried to be one or the other, but were forced into the other.

Dr. Henderson: Such as?

SCP-3155-44: Where to begin? Connor tried establishing himself as a butcher in Boston near the Irish quarter. He ended up frying someone robbing him. They threw him out on his ass and he had to flee west. He was going by Donald last time I checked. Or Carrie. She was a sweet woman, but her voice was sweeter. Tried being an actor down south. Key word being "tried". She ended up flying mid-performance.

Dr. Henderson: What happened to her?

SCP-3155-44: I don't know. But I have the sinking suspicion that it involved a concrete block and a river. Or Ken. He was from Appalachia, fought in the war. Last time I checked he was after some crazy bastard named "Sawteeth" in Chicago. I hope that poor bastard did good, in the end.


SCP-3155-11. Circa 1889

SCP-3155-11: I was fired in 1894. Business was a little harder for the Agency, considering the Pinkerton Act. It was so damn hard adjusting. I had to remember that I wasn't allowed in that bar, or that bathroom, or through that goddamn door way. I got used to it, but some just couldn't adjust. Many of us tried keeping in contact with each other, but some bled through the cracks. Some drowned in their own loneliness and despair and depression.

Dr. Henderson: Mind giving us some examples?

SCP-3155-11: Why?

Dr. Henderson: For the record.

<SCP-3155-11 pauses. Does not respond>

Dr. Henderson: SCP-3155-11?

SCP-3155-11: No.

Dr. Henderson: What?

SCP-3155-11: I'm not telling you. Fuck that. I'm not going to tell you all the people we've lost. All the people who drank themselves to death out of loneliness. Out of isolation. The people who were cast out of their communities for being "freaks" or for being "monsters" or "satanists" or "Catholics" or god knows what else.

Do you have any fucking clue how that feels to be thrown out and labeled as a freak? To hide your powers out of fear of being hanged and killed or sent off to some fucking mad house or freak show or who knows where else? The Agency, for all its fuck ups and faults, was our home. It was our place where we could be safe. Where we had the power.

We were free. We didn't have to worry about our skin color or religion or what's between our legs or where we decide to stick those things in what place. We didn't care. We loved each other. And to have that support line destroyed, ripped apart and cast aside, breaks people. They're broken and destroyed and want the pieces to be put back together but they just fucking won't.

They just fucking won't.

You wanna have an example? Fine. Look at Joey.4

Addendum-3155.2: Incident-3155-01

On 5-12-19██, Site-43 security discovered a damaged section of its electrical barbed wire fencing on the west side of the facility, near Site-43's B-Wing. Near the damaged section of the fence was a pair of wire cutters. Footage of the west side of Site-43 revealed an elderly individual damaging the electrical fencing with said wire cutters. The individual did not suffer any external damage despite the fencing sustaining high electrical energy.

After this was discovered, Site-43's Director decided to initiate a lock down of the entirety of Site-43. MTF-Beta-22 ("The Whistleblowers") was tasked by Site-43's Chief of Security to locate the individual, who was believed to have been an SCP-3155 instance. MTF-Beta-22 were stationed within Site-43's B-Wing, while standard Foundation security forces were deployed to survey the rest of Site-43's A5, C6, and D7 wings.

One hour after the initial lockdown, security footage of B-Wing revealed that the individual had, through means unknown at the time, broken into the deepest sections of Site-43's B-Wing, the location where SCP-3155 instances were being held.

Beta-22 were immediately ordered by Site-43's Director to terminate the entity, then classified as SCP-3155-58.

While Beta-22 was attempting to locate SCP-3155-58, it had successfully entered into SCP-3155-11's cell. The following was recovered.

SCP-3155-11: What the hell is go— Kenny? Is, is that you?

<Muffled speaking>

SCP-3155-11: The hell are you talking abo— We weren't kidnapped.

<Muffled speaking>

SCP-3155-11: Listen, I'm not some goddamn damsel. They take care of us her—

<SCP-3155-58 grabs SCP-3155-11 by the arm and attempts to remove it from its cell>

SCP-3155-11: The hell're you doing?!

<SCP-3155-58 staggers back, its arm severely burned.>

SCP-3155-11: Oh god! Ken, are you oka—

<SCP-3155-58 attempts to get up, moving towards the door of the containment cell>

Following this, Beta-22 had arrived to SCP-3155-11's cell, apprehending SCP-3155-58. Due to SCP-3155-11's action in injuring SCP-3155-58, Beta-22 were able to peacefully subdue it with little resistance.

SCP-3155-58 has since been put into indefinite containment in Site-43's B Wing, with members of Beta-22 acting as its main guards until cooperation can be reached with SCP-3155-58.

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