SCP-6858
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Item#: SCP-6858
Level4
Containment Class:
esoteric
Secondary Class:
argus
Disruption Class:
vlam
Risk Class:
danger
link to memo
Loup.jpg

SCP-6858, propped upright for file photo.

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6858 is in the permanent custody of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police's Occult and Supernatural Activity Taskforce (OSAT)..Responsibility for Argus-class objects is ceded to other normalcy maintenance organizations. It is presently contained at Station 11 in Ottawa, Canada. Escape is considered unlikely but plausible due to organizational ineptitude on the part of OSAT; should this occur, SCP-6858 is to be terminated at the earliest possible opportunity.

Description: SCP-6858 is a hominid/canid hybrid attested in French Canadian folklore as a loup-garou (lit.: 'werewolf'). It is part of a larger class of hominids Nexus-classified as Fowke-13, all known subjects of which are presently in Foundation containment at Site-43. SCP-6858 was recovered in Mount Royal Park, Montréal, on 17 March 1964 after sustaining multiple gunshot wounds. It has not since regained consciousness.

Addendum 6858-1, Release: SCP-6858 was released to OSAT by Site-43 Director pro-tem E. Falkirk on 28 January 2003 in exchange for the surrender of other anomalous items in their care. Dr. Falkirk's actions were retroactively sanctioned by the O5 Council, and a reprimand added to his file. His reasoning for undertaking this action is unknown, as he was permanently incapacitated by an unrelated containment breach the following day.

Command prompt active.

» ACCESS DIRECTOR'S NOTES CHRONOLOGICAL REVERSE

Accessing…

Notes from the Office of the Director on this file are displayed below in reverse chronological order.

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR, SITE-43

Dr. Allan J. McInnis, 2023/01/09

OD.png

I shall be cold, but not cruel: it's for the best that both Dr. Falkirk and SCP-6858 never regain consciousness. I sincerely doubt OSAT will ever discover a cure for lycanthropy, but stranger things have certainly happened; even in possession of such a cure, however, they are unlikely to attempt its application unless the subject is conscious and in good health. Dr. Falkirk's note below suggests that certain medical steps, of which I heartily disapprove, were taken to prevent this from occurring. I wonder if he ever even read Dr. Scout's notes on the matter; he might not have known how, so short was his regrettable tenure as pro-tem Director. The depth of his deception is impossible to gauge without his input on the matter, though I doubt the degree would matter all that much to the aggrieved party in this instance.

Nevertheless, should the stars misalign and the subject both recover from its injuries and recover from its transformation, it will doubtless help to soothe the resultant diplomatic incident when we inform OSAT that Dr. Falkirk has himself been comatose since 2003.

Perhaps we'll remand him to their custody, too. That would be tidy.

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE PRO-TEM DIRECTOR, SITE-43

Dr. Edwin T. Falkirk, 2003/01/15

OD.png

I put little stock in family, for I am not a fool. I have one living relative, and they sit on a Council that sets policy for the paranormal world, and what has that availed me? Leniency in my affairs, and placement in positions for which I have in honest truth proven unready. Yet had I no family, I would not be here, now, capable of taking the action I contemplate.

That action has been further enabled by the unclarity of sentimental attachment. Morwen Couch thinks she can hide her real reasons for wanting this filthy fleabag in her custody. She changed her name, after all, to prove to her father that she could succeed in a man's world without the benefit of familial attachments. But honestly, what good would it do her to have whatever secrets Watts kept in his peanut brain today? None whatever. His intelligence, if ever he had any, is decades out of date. No, she wants him back because he never saw the woman she became. He never gave her the approval her father withheld from her. He never got to see what she'd made of his raggedy band of redsuited clods, and with Welsh blood in her veins to boot.

I can't imagine anyone ever having had any use for Raynard Watts. Though I find myself in sympathy with his notions on the debauchery of certain past holders of this office, the idea that the absence of such vice makes him some paragon of virtue is nothing short of laughable. Watts was a rat, doomed to scurry here and there for a short change of years before someone put their foot down hard upon him. It might've been the only act of true Christian charity Vivian Scout ever performed, crushing him so. I think Watts felt a kinship with the wolves he hunted; though it was all in his head, still the irony of his fate is nothing short of delicious.

To think that such a pathetic thing as the occupant of Chamber N-13 could be judged valuable by any living man or woman… But if Couch is willing to trade good anomalies for bad, it's my pleasure to accept. Far be it from me to obstruct what will no doubt be a charming reunion between granddaughter and grandfather.

Of course, it's never going to wake up — we'll make bloody well sure of that — but hope springs eternal for fools.

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE CO-DIRECTORS, PROVISIONAL SITE-43

Dr. Vivian L. Scout, 1965/08/13

OD.png

We were on the scene too early, and OSAT has never stopped being suspicious about that. They suspect that we suspected how Watts would meet his maker, and they aren't wrong to do so. We'd been tracking those wolves for weeks before the Chief Superintendent went for his fateful hike, had even managed to arrange a local curfew to reduce the risk of civilian savagings in the park, but in the end it took live bait to draw them out of hiding. I know Watts would have appreciated that touch, and perhaps his granddaughter will grow to understand why it was necessary. It's a shame about his escort; the man might have lived had he been a hair taller and taken the blow across his chest rather than his neck. That he discharged his firearm has caused no end of trouble, however, since non-Foundation ballistics still aren't up to the task of distinguishing between identical weapons. The wolf that took him down was sick and ragged, a relatively new transformation so far as we could tell, and from very poor raw material indeed. Certainly it was the victim of multiple gunshot wounds inflicted by an intended victim — of which there were two in that park, on that night. We were obliged to share this information with OSAT to cover the blunder of showing up promptly at the scene of the crime, so it's no surprise they reached the conclusions they did… not that we've put in any effort to convince them otherwise.

And who knows?

Maybe it's even true.

Maybe the few missing chunks of Watts, whose disembowelled, dismembered, decapitated corpse we scraped off the pavement in Mount Royal Park before OSAT got there, regenerated into an entire live werewolf, then shot itself three times with its own service weapon.

I see no good reason at present to tell them otherwise.

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