ARTICLE 1964-H-17

DESIGNATION — "Cardinal"



H. sapiens lupus Nova Gallia

🟢 Live


🟥 Corruption — possesses transmissible condition
🟨 Dispute — improperly acquired from SCP Foundation2
🟩 Violence — is inactive predator
🟩 Biohazard — possesses deficient hygiene
🟪 Disclosure — may possess top secret intelligence


"Cardinal" denotes a single specimen of loup garou (French Canadian: 'werewolf') in OSAT custody. Cardinal is kept sedated in a poured concrete detainment cell at Station 11. Due to poor health and pre-existing injuries which will not heal, it requires frequent transfusions of human blood — Type A, though Type O universal donors are permissible — and intravenous feeding. It has been effectively comatose since 1964.

Further care information, if required, can be obtained from SCP Foundation Site-43 via the Office of External Liaisons.


Article 1964-H-17 first came to OSAT attention after an incident involving our own personnel; the incident report is appended below.

On the night of 17 March 1964, I responded to a distress call from one Clyde Miller, RCMP constable stationed at the entrance to Mount Royal Park in Montreal. Constable Miller was assigned as the emergency contact for Chief Superintendent Raynard Watts of the Occult and Supernatural Activity Taskforce, who was engaged in recreational hiking on the slopes of Mount Royal. Superintendent Watts had requested that he be left to his own devices, only begrudgingly allowing the assignment of a single officer within radio range to monitor for emergent situations. At approximately 6:07 PM EDT Constable Miller detected canine howling in the distance, and attempted to radio Superintendent Watts to confirm his safety. No response was received. Constable Miller then radioed ahead for backup, and announced his intention to search for Superintendent Watts. Permission was granted, and he presumably did so. I arrived at 6:38 PM with backup units to discover Constable Miller dead of exsanguination, and SCP Foundation personnel on the scene. An unnamed Foundation representative reported that a pack of "loop garoo," werewolves, had been sighted earlier that day in the park, and had only now been successfully captured and contained. The representative also reported that the remains of Superintendent Watts had been discovered near the Mount Royal Cross, but could not be released to OSAT custody due to the potential for a biological hazard. Assurances were made to me that the remains would eventually be restored to OSAT for proper burial. Backup units refused to allow Foundation personnel to seize the remains of Constable Miller; on-scene investigation revealed that he had emptied the contents of his service weapon, presumably into his attackers. Constable Miller carried a prototype mobile video recorder belonging to Superintendent Watts at the time of his death, which captured several frames depicting a wounded specimen of "loop garoo." The Foundation representative confirmed that this specimen was among those captured and contained, but refused requests to allow its examination by OSAT personnel due to the aforementioned biohazard. Constable Miller's body was removed from the scene and taken to Station 9 for study.
REPORTING OFFICER: Constable Benoit Gauthier

The attacker identified on Constable Miller's video tape was classified Article 1964-H-17. Shortly thereafter, new Chief Superintendent Gordon Shine applied Apex Priority to the article, and the epithet "Cardinal." Multiple attempts were made over the succeeding decades to procure it from the Foundation, all without success.

Cardinal was finally acquired on 21 January 2003 via a mutual esoteric item transfer arrangement. This arrangement was conducted between Chief Superintendent Morwen Couch and Edwin Falkirk, Director Pro-Tem of SCP Foundation Site-43. Although the propriety of the transfer has since been questioned by Foundation representatives, no attempt at re-acquiring the article has been made.


The circumstances of Superintendent Watts' choice of locale for his leave of absence remain unclear; the City of Montréal was under voluntary curfew due to suspected cougar attacks in Mount Royal Park. Furthermore, the response time of the SCP Foundation to a distress call issued by a rival organization was beyond exemplary, and requires further examination. Repeated inquiries by the Office of External Liaisons have gone unanswered.3

It is a matter of internal record that Superintendent Watts and Dr. Vivian Scout, then Director of Site-43, were on extremely poor terms at the time of the former's death. The disregard shown to Superintendent Watts' suspected remains — which were never repatriated to OSAT — may be a reflection of this, or merely the Foundation's general disregard for OSAT itself. The following file from Superintendent Watts' records may shed some light on these circumstances.



I despise the small-minded.

The so-called Directors of the so-called Site-43 — two confirmed homosexuals living in a tunnel under stolen government land — have the most spectacular case of tunnel vision I have ever witnessed. They think this is a game. They think we persecute them for fun, that engaging in a battle for our nation's very soul is akin to sitting a hand of poker in some God-forsaken dive bar. Well, they won't like the flop that's coming next. I'm going to tear them down, tear them all down, and then we'll see what secrets they've been hiding in their pit of licentious treason.

To be sure, the Foundation is a dangerous adversary. The deadliest I have ever faced, in peacetime or at war. They may even hold dominion over what I once believed to be the sole province of Almighty God: life itself. I pride myself on never forgetting the faces of the men and women I've sent to their final judgement, and I've seen one of those faces staring back at me from across the negotiation table once or twice. A traitorous soldier I had to put down during the war, put a bullet straight through one eye and out the back of his head. He doesn't even have the decency to wear a glass eye now. His real eye grew back. You would not believe me if I told you what I've seen reflected in that slate grey… If they can do that to the dead, what horrors might they inflict upon the living? I shudder to think what dark fate they might dream up for me, once they know what I know and what I intend to do about it.

Which means I'll need to move quickly, very quickly and very quietly. I'll let them think I've slunk off for a walk in the woods to collect my thoughts, and then I'll come back with a vengeance they'll feel in their very bones. I'll make them regret their sins against God and Country, so help me, and then I will turn their diabolical implements toward the bettering of our national cause.

Corporal Falkirk, I will shoot again — in both eyes, this time. Drs. Scout and Rydderech will live to regret that their punishments were not so sudden and clean.

The compromising information mentioned above has not been found in Superintendent Watts' files.


Euthanization of Cardinal is forbidden by order of the Office of the Superintendent. Should a method of reversing its paranormal condition be discovered, contact the Office of Tactical Affairs immediately.

Command prompt active. Welcome back, Director McInnis.


The Occult and Supernatural Activity Taskforce (OSAT) database is secure, and maintained by a rival Group of Interest. Breach security and proceed?


There are twelve (12) independent security countermeasures blocking and/or tracking access to this file. Estimated time to breach: one minute.


Backend access granted.



Comments are displayed below in reverse chronological order.



The maintenance of this monster mattered a great deal to my mother when she was Chief Superintendent, and I'm not without sensitivity to the matter, though I can't claim her personal connection. When she retired, she implored me not to give up on Cardinal. Her determination, her long-term focus, has always been a source of pride for me as her successor in multiple senses.

But I don't think this thing is ever going to wake up, at least not of its own volition. We've been through four superintendecies since its capture by the Foundation, and it's been on a pallet at Station 11 for twenty years now. I'm going to put it to my mother gently, and see what she says: I think we ought to take the thing to the rest of the Council of 108, and see what they make of it. Maybe one of their cults can wake it up. And if not? Well, maybe ICSUT would like the chance to dissect a live werewolf. Lord knows we could use some friends in the anomalous community.

I love my family, but I have a duty to perform for my country as well, and this emaciated relic is only holding us back.



My grandfather taught me to hunt when I was only ten years old. He taught me how to hunt wolves.

He took me out to the wilds of Alberta in the winter, showed me how to build a blind, how to search for sign, and most importantly, how to set bait. "Every living creature on this Earth has its weakness," he told me, and that's one of my earliest strong memories. The wolves in Alberta would go for dead meat in a pinch, but we'd never bag one that way, not on our timetable. To get them roaring in brazen as you like, we needed something fresh, bleeding, alive even. If he hadn't been who he was, the inspectors would have bagged him for it. But he was never one to let go of an advantage, my grandfather, and I learned a lot about that from him.

The Foundation thinks they're the wolves of the veiled world. Falkirk in particular never misses a chance to bare his fangs at us. There's a grudge there, and I don't know why, but I don't need to know to take advantage of it. We might not have the experts they have, but it doesn't take a magician or a genius to see that these artifacts he's so eager to get his hands on are worthless. He thinks this will be a feather in his cap, but he'll be lucky to keep his head when his overseers see what he's done. He smells weakness on the wind, he thinks, and he's going to close in on it.

Go ahead. Walk into my trap. You'll make my grandfather very proud.



My predecessor talked a big game in his private notes, but I don't think he would ever have moved against the Foundation. He was always too cowed by Scout at 43, the highest ear he could bend, to seriously contemplate decisive action on the matter of Cardinal. For my part I've found them too far mellowed, too damnably tractable, to want to plot against them. And after all, if said predecessor's guesses are correct, plotting against the Foundation was the worst mistake Watts ever made. I saw what was left of Miller, and I don't care to court that fate. I'm even more hesitant to see us made fools of on this matter yet again.


We are about to become a member in good standing of the Global Occult Coalition. We have engaged in good faith dealings with the folks at 43. We're not the fringe lunatics our friends at CSIS and the rest of the RCMP once saw us as. We made mistakes back in the day, but we're shot of them now. Might we not be able to secure a diplomatic solution?

Might they not just give us Cardinal, if we make it worth their while?

I have an idea. We're in the final stages of negotiating the termination of that child-eating hobgoblin they've got "locked up," and OSAT has been involved in the case from an early stage. Old Scout would have me believe it's a joint operation. I might be able to test that assertion, even force him to prove it.

We captured the bastard, and then passed it along to the skippers. Why shouldn't they pass us back his personal effects, as a sign that our cooperation was appreciated? I think I might even insist upon this.

Naturally, they'll want it all back eventually. They're collectors. Packrats. They need to have at least one of every unique thing, and they already have a bevy of werewolves buried in their secret Site, I'm sure. Drop a few hints in badly-coded transmissions that we've made some sort of breakthrough with the bonhomme's things, and… well, we'll see! Either they'll come to the bargaining table with a generous offer — Cardinal, on a platter — or they'll try to raid us.

Either way then, we'll know where we stand, and that's more than we've ever known before.



It's a damn shame what happened to Raynard Watts. He wasn't the easiest man to get along with, snapping old ferret that he was, but he could fertle about like nobody's business once he caught a scent, and he put a lifetime into our strange and secret service. I wish I'd known the danger he was walking into, at the end of it, if only to prepare myself for filling his mirror-polished size nines. Admittedly, had I known, I wouldn't have been able to stop him going on his fool trip. He did what he wanted, did our Chief Super, and we were his cult of personality.

He had us convinced, absolutely convinced that some day we'd get one over on the Foundation, and that makes what happened all the more bitter to me now. I can't stand the thought that those arrogant, self-satisfied bastards got the ultimate last laugh at his expense. Vivian Scout and his cold cocksuredness! He knew those wolves were there, he knew every single thing a man could possibly know about them, and in that knowledge he cheerfully sent Watts to his death. He all but admitted it to me, because he knows I can't do a damn thing about it. It would almost be better if Watts had died of his injuries, instead of what actually happened.

The thought of him festering away in some dank cell, corrupted into some abomination before the Lord, curls my toes in my size tens. If I don't get him out of there, I hope my successors have better luck.

For them, in case the above hasn't made it painfully obvious: Cardinal is Raynard Nathan Watts, first Chief Superintendent of OSAT.

End of file.


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