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The following document discusses the subject of an on-going investigation; as such, information present
in this file is subject to frequent change. Check back regularly for updates to this file.

— Dr. Caballero, Director of SCP-5700 Operations

SCP-5700? I'll admit, it has a nice ring to it.

Item#: 5700
Containment Class:
Secondary Class:
Disruption Class:
Risk Class:

Assigned Site Project Lead Project Assistant Assigned Task Force
Site-17 Dr. Caballero Researcher Griffin MTF Epsilon-06 ("Village Idiots")


SCP-5700-1 in Colorado, circa 1874.

Special Containment Procedures: The central northwestern region of the United State is to be continually monitored for SCP-5700-1 activity; should such activity be detected, members of MTF Epsilon-06 (“Village Idiots”) are to be dispatched to SCP-5700-1's location to engage and capture him if possible. SCP-5700-3 is to be monitored at all times and not be disturbed under any circumstances; any abnormalities in SCP-5700-3's behavior are to be recorded and reported to Dr. Caballero or Researcher Griffin immediately. Surviving SCP-5700 instances are to be housed at Site-17 and are permitted to interact with other residents once properly acclimated.

Alternative versions of historically-relevant instances' lives are to be inserted into public records as part of a general disinformation campaign. Moreover, any possible historical references to SCP-5700's activity or members are to be expunged from any records in which they appear.Some things are best left buried.


Several members of SCP-5700 and several Sioux native allies, shortly before a routine raid.

Description: SCP-5700 collectively denotes seven anomalous humanoids (designated SCP-5700-1 through -7) that appeared around and were primarily active throughout a period spanning from approximately 1872 to 1880 within the area now known as the central northwestern United States. SCP-5700 appears to have engaged in a form of guerrilla warfare against American settlers and government officials attempting to settle in their area of activity at the time in an apparent attempt to keep encroachers out of the area. SCP-5700 is believed to have coordinated with native American populations to this end.

Due to SCP-5700's activity having occurred prior to the establishment of the Foundation proper, it did not come to formal attention until shortly after 6/28/1979, following the capture and interrogation of SCP-5700-4, although other members of SCP-5700 had been encountered prior to that date. (See SCP-5700-2, -5). As such, a vast majority of information regarding SCP-5700 is unknown, with solid evidence of the group's activity remaining extremely scarce. Shortly after the Neutralization of SCP-1422 on 7/9/2007, more details about the history of SCP-5700's activity were able to be documented. SCP-5700 and SCP-1422 are thought to be unrelated at this time. I suppose my efforts on that front finally gave out, eh?


Lt. Col. Custer, killed at the Battle of Little Bighorn. SCP-5700-6 is thought to have impersonated him and other generals to cause disorder in the American military.

Historical Activity: While a majority of SCP-5700's historical activity remains largely unknown, historical and firsthand accounts have been able to confirm the presence of at least a few of its members at a variety of confrontations ranging small engagements to large-scale battles. Among the more well-known points of intervention are the battles of Rosebud and later Little Bighorn during the Great Sioux War of 1876, at which at least four members were present.

Soldiers at the battle recorded events verbally and in writing that likely corresponded to intervention on SCP-5700-2, -4, -5, and -6's parts; SCP-5700-1 is suspected to have also been present, though there is insufficient evidence to effectively support this.

The only known physical traces left of SCP-5700 activity are geological oddities generated by SCP-5700-2 and -4 utilizing their abilities, namely in the form of strange geological structures and increased crystalline mineral presence at battle sites. While literary mentions of SCP-5700 in soldiers' journals exist, they are considered extremely rare due to the infrequency of literacy among American citizens at the time.

Beyond these and related major events, SCP-5700 is believed to have engaged in smaller-scale raids on settler camps with the intent of expelling the settlers rather than killing them. The frequency of such raids is unknown but thought to have been high in SCP-5700's primary area of activity.

Addendum 5700.1: The following is a summary of all known data concerning the seven members of SCP-5700.


SCP-5700-1, historically known as Harry Yount.

Designation: SCP-5700-1
Known Aliases: Harry Yount
Containment: Uncontained, Alive
Description: Caucasian male appearing to be in their late forties bearing brown hair and hazel eyes. Modern sightings of the subject describe them as having a large beard, as well.
Anomalous Abilities: SCP-5700-1 possesses anomalously sensitive electrosensitivity to the point of being able to detect and locate nearby organisms within a variable radius. Subject’s ability has also proven to be receptive to certain meteorological phenomenon such as thunderstorms, the presence of which is reported to cause SCP-5700-1 severe migraines. SCP-5700-1 also possesses negligible senescence, causing little to no aging since his abilities were initially obtained.

Interview 5700.1: On 12/18/2002, Dr. Caballero conducted an interview with SCP-5700-4 to gain a better understanding of the history and activity of SCP-5700 during their time of activity. A transcript of the interview is available below.

Incident/Interview 5700.1A.: On 12/24/2009 SCP-5700-1 was encountered in Fort Collins, Colorado by an off-duty researcher who saw and recognized the subject at a Christmas Eve church service. The researcher, Researcher Graham, contacted his superiors and attempted to stall while MTF Epsilon-06 prepared to engage. Graham recorded the conversation using a discreet camera built into his glasses.

During a sweep of the area following the taskforce's arrival, Graham was found to be missing. His recording glasses were discovered broken on the ground just within the tree line of a nearby forest. The following is a transcript of the video file extracted from the device.

    • _

    Video Log Transcript

    Interview/Interview 01 Video Log

    Date: 12/24/2009

    Interviewer: SCP-GD Analyst Samuel Graham

    Interviewee: SCP-5700-1


    (Graham’s reflection can be seen in a bathroom mirror as the video begins. He fiddles with his glasses for a moment before realizing his camera is recording. His posture straightens as he speaks to the camera’s reflection.)

    Graham: Alright, so I have encountered SCP-5700-1 here in, uh, Fort Collins, Colorado. I’ve alerted Epsilon ‘o six, and they are currently en route. I am going to attempt to stall the subject until their arrival.

    (Graham pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, swallows, and exits the bathroom. A small lobby area can now be seen: several churchgoers are milling about, and SCP-5700-1 can be seen at the far end of the room near the door to the main chapel. Graham briefly makes small talk with some of the other people as he makes his way towards SCP-5700-1, who glances up from a small beverage as he approaches.)

    Graham: Um, hi, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, I’m Sam. (Graham’s hand enters the frame as he offers a handshake.)

    (SCP-5700-1 eyes Graham hesitantly before shaking his hand and nodding politely.)

    SCP-5700-1: Harry.

    Graham: A pleasure. Did you enjoy the service?

    SCP-5700-1: Yes, it was very nice. I liked the part with, uh, Jesus.

    Graham: (Chuckles.) I would hope so. So, are you here with anyone else tonight?

    (SCP-5700-1’s eyes flicker to another beverage cup on the table next to him and shuffles his feet.)

    SCP-5700-1: No, just me tonight.

    Graham: Ah. Well, we’re having a post-service party in a little bit, do you have any family you’d like to bring to that?

    SCP-5700-1: No, they’re all, um, gone.

    Graham: Oh, I’m… so sorry.

    SCP-5700-1: (Pauses and stares off at something before shaking his head.) It’s fine. Time heals all wounds, right?

    Graham: (Patting SCP-5700-1 on the shoulder.) Time and a little bit of whiskey, my friend. Trust me, I’ve been there.

    SCP-5700-1: (Chuckles.) Know any good pubs around here?

    Graham: One or two come to mind.

    (SCP-5700-1 sighs and places his beverage next to the cup on the table.)

    SCP-5700-1: If you’re payin’… (Shrugs.) Why not?

    (Graham and SCP-5700-1 leave the church and walk for a few minutes before reaching a local pub. They enter, seat themselves at the bar and order some food and drinks. By the time SCP-5700-1 has had a few drinks, he appears more relaxed and noticeably inebriated. He doesn't seem to notice his food arriving.)

    Graham: So, you mentioned earlier about your family. Mind talking about it? Those kinds of things weigh on your heart.

    SCP-5700-1: (Sighs and nods.) Yeah. We used to be great, the seven of us. Jumping from fight to fight, like nothin’ anyone’d ever seen. We were unstoppable. (He pauses to take another sip of his drink. He notices his food and picks a fry off of his plate and pops it in his mouth; a third of the burger has already been eaten.)

    Graham: Military, then. Which war was this?

    SCP-5700-1: (Swallows.) None you’d ever heard of, this was before your time.

    Graham: If you say so. (Graham reaches around SCP-5700-1 and takes a few fries from the plate. Half of SCP-5700-1’s burger has now been eaten.)

    SCP-5700-1: But the first of us to… (He falls silent for a few moments before continuing.) …Nah.

    (SCP-5700-1 lurches forward as though having been struck from behind. He swings around with a backhand but restrains himself as he turns to reveal and empty seat beside him. SCP-5700-1 mumbles something and turns back towards Graham.)

    SCP-5700-1: Nah. That’s what we called her at least. I always just called her “kid.”

    Graham: How old?

    SCP-5700-1: Couldn’t have been older than eleven or twelve when it happened. God, I remember it like it was yesterday. We were down by the Upper Basin. Hotah and her had just left to gather wood a few minutes earlier when we hear a gunshot and a crash of glass. Carter, Eric, and I ran up the hill to see what had happened. A stranger, well, what was left of him was lying mangled under a huge pile of crystal leaves and branches; Hotah must have turned the tree into… gah. Bastard's rifle was still smoking when we ran in. (He takes another large sip; he calls over the bartender who comes by and refills the drink.)

    Hotah was holding Nah when we finally got up to the clearing. God, there was so much blood. One large gunshot, right in her stomach. Goddammit, I can still remember her face, the fear, the… (He trails off and is silent for a few moments. He sighs deeply, takes another sip, and snaps a brief profanity at the empty seat next to him.)

    Graham: I don’t want to put you through this again if it’s too painful to—

    SCP-5700-1: No, I’m alright, it’s just… I can understand why the bastard would have gone after Hotah, but a fucking child? (He sighs.) This was exactly what I was trying to prevent in the first place, and still it all came back to bite me in the ass anyway.

    (Graham takes a sip of his drink but remains silent. SCP-5700-1 slides his plate in front of him and begins picking through the fries. He scans the counter briefly.)

    SCP-5700-1: Didn’t I get a burger?

    Graham: Didn’t you eat it?

    (SCP-5700-1 pauses in thought for a second before shaking his head.)

    SCP-5700-1: We buried her there that evening. Everyone was… broken. We wept. Hotah just sat next to the grave, blank-faced; the poor guy just didn’t know what to do. By dusk we finally started heading back to camp. I hung back with Hotah for a little bit. That’s when we noticed water coming out of the ground. I had to pull Hotah away from the grave as the flow grew, he kept insisting she was somehow still alive, that we had just buried her too quickly. That boiling water of hers came blasting out, hot enough to warm you to the bone from ten feet away. Within minutes there was a brand-spanking-new hot spring where there had been glass and blood just a few minutes ago.

    Graham: That’s… odd.

    (SCP-5700-1 chuckles heartily; he is now clearly drunk and slurs his words as he speaks.)

    SCP-5700-1: I thought so too until I saw that bright light streaming out of it and ta-da! Who is it?

    (He pauses and looks towards Graham as though expecting an answer.)

    Graham: Was it, uh, Na—

    SCP-5700-1: Nope, it’s that water bitch from eight fucking years ago. Starts blabbin’ about how Nah “wasn’t dead or alive” and still she had to “defeat the depths” or some bullsh—

    Graham: (Interrupting.) Harry, tone it down a little, people are starting to stare.

    (SCP-5700-1 quiets down, his voice sinking to a mutter. The bartender comes by, eyes him, then refills his glass with water. SCP-5700-1 drinks a little and sighs.)

    SCP-5700-1: Sorry, there's a lot to unpack there. I never should have dredged all that up.

    Graham: Sorry to put you through that.

    SCP-5700-1: No one's fault but mine. I think I’ve had my fill of storytelling for tonight. Might be time to part ways.

    Graham: I'm not letting you off on your own looking like this, I can help you home. Where are you staying?

    (Graham’s phone buzzes with a text. He takes it out, and the leader of MTF Epsilon-06 operations contact can be seen on the screen.)

    Graham: Okay, hold that thought, Harry. I gotta take this, can you just give me one sec?

    (SCP-5700-1 nods and leans back, and mumbles something. Graham steps outside into a snowy parking lot and dials the contact.)

    Graham: Hello?

    Epsilon-06-A: Graham? We’re almost there, how are you holding up?

    Graham: I’m fine, Har— uh, 'dash one' is in the pub at my location. I got him a little drunk, so there’ll be no need for lethal force, just some amnestics for the locals.

    Epsilon-06-A: You what? Excellent job, kid. (He barks some commands to someone off-mic.) Alright, we’ll be there any minute now, just keep him busy for a little bit longer. Got it?

    Graham: Alright, but there's no telling how fast he'll sober up, being anomalous and all. (Pauses.) Don't be too rough with him if you can help it. Like I said, you won't need leth—

    Epsilon-06-A: Careful, Graham. I shouldn't have to tell you that sentiment can kill as easily as a gun in our line of work. As far as we need be concerned, that thing isn't a person. It's an anomaly. Simple as.

    Graham: R-right, sorry. See you soon.

    (Graham pockets his phone and turns back towards the pub. SCP-5700-1 is leaning against the building, staring at Graham. He shakes his head and stands up straight.)

    SCP-5700-1: I should'a known when I first saw you. I could feel your heart rate going wild, I thought, “Wait, what if this guy’s one of them?”

    Graham: Harry, please, I—

    SCP-5700-1: I mean, to be fair, you were nice enough to make me doubt that. (He chuckles.) In fact, I might be drunk, but I thought your heart was racing because you were into me or something.

    Graham: I don't want this any more than you do, Harry.

    SCP-5700-1: Oh, look who’s talkin’! You couldn’t just let a couple of old men have their rest, could you?

    Graham: I don’t like it either, but you’re anomalous, they won’t let you.

    SCP-5700-1: Oh, because I can feel electricity more than your average Joe, I just have to be locked away forever, is that it?

    Graham: (Pauses.) I mean, you're also kind of an immortal ecoterrorist.

    SCP-5700-1: That's aside the point.

    (SCP-5700-1 straightens up and looks around, then back at Graham.)

    SCP-5700-1: We're done here, I can feel your dogs closing in. (SCP-5700-1 turns to run but pauses. After a moment, he turns back towards Graham, a tired smile on his face.) You're a good kid. Don't let them take that from you. (He tips his head slightly forward.) Merry Christmas, Sam.

    (SCP-5700-1 appears to reach for something besides him and vanishes. Graham scans the parking lot confusedly; Epsilon-06 vehicles finally arrive, and agents begin to unload. Epsilon-06-A approaches Graham.)

    Epsilon-06-A: (To the other agents.) I want a full sweep of this place. Migs, prep some gen-retro for the civis. (Turning to Graham) Graham, which way’d he go.

    Graham: (Looking around confusedly.) I… wait, he was right here.

    Epsilon-06-A: Yes, but where is he now?

    Graham: (Clutches his head.) Gah, what the hell? He was here and then…

    Epsilon-06-A: (Rolls his eyes and shakes his head.) Oh well, good enough job getting us the heads up, he couldn’t have gotten very far, especially loaded up on booze like that.

    Graham: Y-yea. What can I do to help?

    Epsilon-06-A: (Pulls a small handgun from his belt and handing it handle-first to Graham.) We’re not letting this bastard slip away again. I expect you won't either. (06-A cranes his head down towards Graham, locking eyes with him.) Do what you know you have to do.

    (Graham nods and departs in the direction of a nearby line of trees. A full moon illuminates the area brightly. As he approaches, two sets of footprints become apparent in the snow, one of them made by long, dragging steps. Graham draws his weapon and follows the footprints further, passing the tree line. In the distance, a flicker of movement dances on the edge of the camera and Graham turns to face it: in the distance a flickering figure can be seen hobbling through the snow, continuing the trail Graham was already following.)

    (Graham raises his gun, braces himself, and fires off three shots. Upon the third shot, the figure solidifies, stumbles, and falls over. Graham runs over towards the subject but slows as he grows closer. SCP-5700-1 can be seen getting up from the ground, apparently unharmed, and now pulling a second man along with him, clutching a fresh gunshot wound to his shoulder. As Graham draws closer, the man slows to a stop and looks back at him. The man is aged, but unknown digital distortion prevents detailed rendering of his face. SCP-5700-1 is now stopped as well and raises his hands slowly.)

    (The man slowly shakes his head.)

    SCP-5700-1: Please.

    (Graham is silent, his gun trained shakily on the two figures before him. Graham’s voice is shaky as he speaks.)

    Graham: I don't want to do this any more than you do, Harry. Just come quietly and we can sort this all out at Site-17. Hotah would be thrilled to see you!

    SCP-5700-1: You don't have to do this, Sam. There's something, a kindness in you, that doesn't belong with those people.

    Graham: (Shakes his head frantically, his voice breaks.) They're all I have.

    SCP-5700-1: What have they given you? Let me guess, a tiny apartment? Lies of a promotion? Mindless paperwork to keep you tucked away in your cubicle? Or false hope that it'll all change for the better someday? That's not a life or whatever you want to call it, that's Stockholm Syndrome.

    Graham: That's not… it's different than that!

    SCP-5700-1: We both know that's not true. Your kindness was enough to make me of all people question whose side you were on. They're not working with you, Sam, they're using you.

    (Graham attempts to stutter a refutation for a few seconds before falling silent, his gun still trained on the two figures.)

    Graham: (Laughs nervously.) Look at me, hunting down a couple of tired old men like animals. God, and you're far from the only ones. There are others with much more mild abilities than you out there that are being locked away for simply existing. And you're right! It isn't fair, none of it is fucking fair, but…

    (Graham is silent for a moment before grunting loudly in frustration and lowering his weapon. He looks down at the gun in his hands before looking back up to the men.)

    Graham: I don't want to do this. I got drafted into this whole shitshow over a stupid research paper I published in college, I never signed up for this. If I let you go there'll be consequences. I could lose my job, my home, my…

    SCP-5700-1: You don't owe them anything, Sam.

    (Graham wipes his eyes and sighs shakily.)

    Graham: I read your file. A man, no, a whole group of men that willingly threw away everything to try and stop crude injustice and right their own wrongs. You fought back because you knew you couldn’t bear to sit through any more of the carnage you saw every day, all while knowing good and well that you could never actually win. Now tell me, not as SCP-5700-1, but as the man who made a choice all those years ago, was it truly all worth it?

    (Everyone is silent for seven seconds.)

    SCP-5700-1: (Nods slowly.) Every last second. (He sighs and smiles.) So says I.

    (Graham throws his glasses to the ground and stomps down on them, shattering the camera lens and severely damaging the recording apparatus. As the video fades, Graham can be seen embracing the men and following them along into the snowy woods.)

    [END LOG]

    Note: Epsilon-06 was unable to locate Researcher Graham, SCP-5700-1, or the unknown man the night of the recording; the search for the three subjects is still underway. Graham has been discharged of all Foundation association and is considered an enemy of the Foundation at this time. Investigations into the identity and abilities of the unknown man traveling with SCP-5700-1 are ongoing as well.

      • _

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        • _


        You have taken it upon yourself to shield our world from the inexplicable, regardless of the costs, and for that I must commend your dedication, but even your eternal duties can have their limits— not everything, not everyone need be locked away.

        When the seven of us set out all those years ago to defend an ancient land from the “good guys" as history would come to call them, we knew it would not be an easy task, and in the end we did fail. We scattered off to who knows where to do who knows what, never staying in the same place for too long. Be it angry townsfolk accusing you of demonic possession, or even the earliest shell of what would become your Foundation, nowhere was truly safe for very long. I have no doubt that at least some of your number know what it's like to live on the run, to be unable to settle down, with even a moment's rest meaning the danger nipping at your heels catches up and ends it all. We've lived like this for over a century, and it's just tiresome.

        So, Foundation, I say this to the side of you that is human, the side that looks into the eyes of the people that you lock away, and knows, at least regretfully, that there is a soul behind some of those eyes that wishes for nothing more than to be left alone. Truly I ask you, what harm is there in letting these tired men rest? Do not let these mysteries and old men of ages past concern you anymore.

        For all of our sakes, let the past die quietly.

        So, says I.


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