Item #: SCP-8097
Object Class: Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8097's body is being held for study for the next three years; once yearly, his cadaver is to be inspected for any anomalous properties. If none have manifested after five years, SCP-8097's remains are to be disposed of.
Special Containment Procedures Addendum: As of June 2017, SCP-8097's remains have failed to display any anomalous properties, and as such, their body has been cremated, and their ashes have been interred in their family plot at the Flower Street Cemetery in Hunter's Creek.
Description: SCP-8097 refers to Gregory Arnoldson, a seventeen-year-old spree killer of Swedish and Russian descent responsible for between twelve and fifteen deaths in the town of Hunter’s Creek, Massachusetts in May of 2012. Prior to his death, Arnoldson possessed an unknown quality and quantity of anomalous abilities which aided in his crimes. The only confirmed anomalous ability Arnoldson possessed was increased regenerative capabilities, to the point where twenty rounds from a Hunter’s Creek Police Department firearm failed to subdue them.
Records kept by SCP-8097’s school, including a ‘shooter risk profile’1 show a wide range of behavioral issues, including vandalizing school property, assaulting other students, and ‘inappropriate involvement’ with a former art teacher. SCP-8097 was reported to have been abused by other family members, but these claims were never passed on to law enforcement, child services, or any other appropriate agency.
On May 15th, 2012, SCP-8097 murdered a stocker at Walker’s Grocery Store in Hunter’s Creek and left their body on the loading dock behind the store; after security footage was uploaded to LiveLeak2 showing SCP-8097 avoiding all blood splatter while killing the subject in question by forcibly removing their jugular, the Foundation launched an investigation.
Despite Foundation efforts, SCP-8097 would kill at least four more individuals leading up to May 20th, the night of Hunter’s Creek High School’s Senior Prom. At this event, he would kill seven more individuals. Three more bodies were discovered at his family home on May 21st, bringing his death toll to fifteen.
Addendum: Timeline of Events, 5/20/2012:
Archivist’s Note: Events confirmed by security camera footage or other electronic recording (i.e. computer records, photography, audio recording) are presented with bold timestamps. Events only attested by eyewitness testimony are indicated by underlined timestamps.
7:00 PM: Senior Prom officially commences at Hunter’s Creek High School. SCP-8097 is observed on security cameras, entering the premises and paying admission, displaying no abnormal behavior. They are wearing a pink boutonnière3, despite not having a date, and a black tuxedo. Other students avoid them; body language indicates that they detect a foul odor of some form.
7:00 PM: Students indicate that SCP-8097 had a strong odor of body spray around him, as if attempting to cover an unpleasant smell.
7:03 PM: The DJ begins playing their first set of music in the main gymnasium; fitting with the dance’s theme of ‘Crazy 80’s’, the song is Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cindi Lauper.
7:07 PM: SCP-8097 is seen on camera in the main gymnasium attempting to converse with a fellow student. After two minutes of conversation, the student breaks away.
7:09 PM: A student in a hot pink prom dress, identified as Gwendolyn “Wendy” Marshall, is seen on camera entering the women’s restroom on the first floor.
7:10 PM: SCP-8097 is seen entering the women’s restroom on the first floor.
7:18 PM: SCP-8097 is seen leaving the women’s restroom on the first floor. He appears to be sucking something off of his left index finger.
Marshall, photographed approximately two hours prior to the attack.
7:19 PM: SCP-8097 is seen re-entering the women’s restroom.
7:20 PM: SCP-8097 is seen exiting the men’s restroom on the first floor. The two restrooms are separated by approximately 3m of corridor, and do not have adjacent walls.
7:22 PM: Another female student is seen attempting to enter the women’s restroom on the first floor, but finds the door locked. They shrug, and proceed to the one on the second floor.
7:30 or 7:32 PM: A pair of male students, one wearing a blue boutonnière, confront SCP-8097 by the buffet table outside the gymnasium. Records show these two individuals had been the subject of abuse by SCP-8097 for several years prior to this encounter.
7:34 PM: A pair of male students are seen walking away from the approximate location of the buffet table, their body language conveying disgust. SCP-8097 follows them, before cameras lose track of both parties as they vanish around a corner.
7:40 PM (approx): A student reports hearing the sounds of metal banging in one of the second-floor hallways, ‘as if a locker was being slammed shut over and over’, accompanied by a loud crunching sound on the last bang. Upon seeing a member of maintenance personnel on the balcony overlooking the lobby, they disregard the noise and return to their conversation.
7:42: A member of maintenance personnel, repairing a light fixture on the balcony, nods in acknowledgement as SCP-8097 passes. The custodian is wearing headphones. SCP-8097 leaves behind a visible shoe print, causing an annoyed reaction from the maintenance personnel.
8:00 PM: The second set of music begins, consisting largely of 1980s motion picture soundtracks.
8:10 PM: Voting for Prom King and Prom Queen begins, and ballot boxes are placed by the entrance to the auditorium.
8:12: SCP-8097 deposits votes for both Prom King and Prom Queen.
8:12 PM: Two students and one teacher note that the ballots SCP-8097 deposits appear to be wet.
8:23 PM: SCP-8097 goes to the DJ and requests a song to be played. The DJ is seen laughing and nodding, before they queue it up as the next song.
8:25 PM: The main theme from the horror film Prom Night begins to play.
8:35 PM: Two students, one male and one female, enter the women’s locker room. The female student is in a state of mild undress. Their left shoe is lost as they enter the locker room.
8:36 PM: SCP-8097 enters the women’s locker room, picking up the shoe as they go.
8:37 PM: Surveillance equipment within the locker room4 record the following audio:
SCP-8097: Hey.
Male Student: Wh— oh, unintelligible ck, Greg, what does y unintelligible ss want now?
SCP-8097: An apology.
Female Student: Unintelligible
SCP-8097: You know for what, Carlie, you fucking whore.
Sounds of altercation
Sound of glass breaking
Screaming
Silence
8:42 PM: SCP-8097 emerges from the women’s locker room and attempts to deposit the female student’s shoe into a trash can; the heel of the shoe has a sheen to it, suggesting it is wet. However, the receptacle is over-full, and it falls out the other side.
SCP-8097 is not seen on surveillance between 8:42 and 9:07 PM. However, student and teacher testimony records possible anomalous phenomena connected to SCP-8097.
8:47 PM: Maintenance personnel on the second floor reports seeing an eye looking out at him from Locker 244. Upon opening it with the master locker key, nothing is found.
8:49 PM: Several students attempt to enter the women’s bathroom on the first floor, knocking rapidly upon it. They are discouraged from doing so when the knocking is repeated from the other side of the door.
8:55 PM: (approx) A biology teacher reports hearing muffled moaning outside their second-floor classroom where they are grading papers. This room is adjacent to Locker 244. He notes that Locker 244 has been vandalized, with words scratched into the metal, reading:
im ok
dont st
stop me
9:00 PM: A puddle of water is discovered by the bleachers near the women’s locker room. A student notes that the showers in the locker room occasionally leak.
9:07 PM: SCP-8097 reappears, emerging from the first-floor men’s bathroom.
9:12 PM: A chaperone discovers the shoe of the female student last seen entering the women’s locker room.
9:23 PM: The chaperone approaches the DJ in order to make an announcement about the lost shoe.
9:24 PM: SCP-8097 is heard conversing with the chaperone, telling her that he has seen the student to whom it belongs, and asks her to follow him.
9:28 PM: SCP-8097 is seen entering a staircase reading “ROOF ACCESS”.
9:42 PM: Surveillance in the school’s lobby shows an indistinct shape impacting on the skylight above the main entrance. The sound of glass straining is heard.
9:45 PM: SCP-8097 returns from the roof. They are no longer wearing a boutonnière.
9:47 PM: SCP-8097 emerges from the men’s bathroom on the first floor, wearing a blue boutonnière.
10:00 PM: Prom King and Prom Queen are announced as being Eric Striker and Carlie Planter, respectively. Neither of them approach the stage to collect their regalia.
10:00 PM: Several students jeer that they’re in the locker room.
10:03 PM: A student in a white prom dress enters the women’s locker room.
10:07 PM: The previous student exits the locker room, screaming and sobbing, rushing the stage and grabbing the DJ’s microphone, announcing that there are dead bodies in the locker room.
10:07 PM: While initially disbelieved, the look of horror on her face, combined with visible vomit and a panicked demeanor, convinces a chaperone to inspect the locker room. They confirm the student's findings.
10:08 PM: The maintenance personnel working on the second floor notices the door to locker 244 is slightly ajar. He opens it, and a corpse is partially dislodged.
10:08 PM: Photographs taken by the maintenance personnel immediately after opening the locker show that the corpse matches one of the two males who were antagonizing SCP-8097 earlier in the night. Its left hand appears to be fused to the locker door. A second, indistinct shape is bisected by the locker's shelving.
10:10 PM: Students are instructed to shelter in place within classrooms, and not to be out of the view of chaperones or teachers at any time.
10:20 PM: Police arrive. Two Foundation agents accompany them as ‘special FBI investigators’.
10:25 PM: Police notice the indistinct shape resting on the skylight. As they are trying to examine it, the glass shatters and the body of the chaperone falls through the skylight. The officer observing it is crushed by the falling body and killed. Part of a pink boutonnière is discovered in the chaperone’s hand.
10:30 PM: The Chief of Police declares a lockdown around Hunter’s Creek High School.
10:39 PM: The women’s restroom on the first floor is unlocked. Gwendolyn Marshall is retrieved from it, and placed into a body bag. She sits upright as the zipper is about to close around her head.
10:55 PM: Paramedics treat Marshall’s wounds. She recounts the events which occurred, naming SCP-8097 as the assailant.
10:59 PM: SCP-8097’s ballots for prom royalty are recovered from a trash can; both were wet, and were not counted. Both of them are written in blood.
11:03 PM: An officer patrolling the area discovers SCP-8097 in the school’s assembly hall, and draws their weapon. As they approach, they fire into SCP-8097’s center of mass. SCP-8097 does not seem to be affected by the bullets.
11:05 PM: SCP-8097 stabs the officer in the ear with what appears to be an audio cable.
11:13 PM: The school’s guidance counselor arrives on-scene, wanting to console the student body. The Chief of Police escorts her through the building.
11:27 PM: While passing by the biology classroom in the first floor corridor, the guidance counselor and chief of police hear a noise within. Both enter to investigate.
11:43 PM: SCP-8097 exits the biology classroom, holding an indistinct, somewhat spherical object in their left hand. A red fluid is dripping from it.
11:50 PM: Gwendolyn Marshall disappears from the triage area where she is being treated, and cannot be located after several minutes of searching.
11:57 PM: SCP-8097 enters the chemistry laboratory, and attempts to open several cabinets. Finding them locked, he exits the room to search for a key.
11:58 PM: Marshall enters through the other door to the chemistry laboratory, and locates a spare key hidden in the lab’s fume hood. She begins opening cabinets containing chemicals and lab equipment, hooking a hose to a gas faucet, as well as locating a lighter in the teacher’s desk.
11:59 PM: SCP-8097 re-enters the laboratory. Marshall, who is hiding behind the door, breaks a bottle of caustic liquid over their head. As they scream in pain, Marshall shoves him towards the hose and faucet, turning it on before igniting the lighter.
As SCP-8097 begins to burn, Marshall retrieves a fire extinguisher to seemingly douse them. While she does so, immediately after the flames are extinguished, she begins beating him over the head with the canister of flame retardant.
12:03 AM, May 21st, 2012: Estimated time of death of SCP-8097.
12:06 AM: Marshall is discovered by members of the police department and pulled away from SCP-8097’s cadaver.
Interviewer: Agent Adrienne Palmer
Subject: Gwendolyn Marshall
Date: 22/05/2012
Location of Interview: Hunter's Creek PD Holding Cells
Marshall has been held in Hunter's Creek PD's Holding cells for over twenty-four hours. The only communication she has made during this time is the word 'Lawyer'. Palmer entered the holding cells at 01:32 PM, activating a hidden recording device on her clothing.
Agent Palmer: Good afternoon. It's Wendy, right?
Marshall: For the umpteenth time, give me a lawyer.
Agent Palmer: I'm actually not police. One second.
Palmer retrieves an identification badge for her cover identity.
Agent Palmer: I'm with Suicide and Crisis Prevention. We're a non-profit organization dedicated to helping people in the aftermath of severe traumatic events. Natural disasters, terrorist attacks—
Marshall: School shootings?
Agent Palmer: Exactly.
Marshall: Can I see your badge?
Agent Palmer: Of course.
Palmer places the badge on a portion of the cell meant for depositing meal trays, and pushes it halfway through. Marshall reads it and hands it back.
Marshall: Okay. Are… are you going to record this?
Agent Palmer produces a pen and notepad.
Agent Palmer: I'm just going to take notes. I want to see if I can't recommend a good therapist in the area based off of what you tell me. Now, what can you tell me?
Marshall: All right. Let me just…
Marshall sits in her cell. Palmer pulls up her own chair.
Marshall: Where do you want me to start?
Agent Palmer: Who did you go to prom with?
Marshall: Nobody. I… I just wanted to be there. Be around people.
Agent Palmer: It's a twenty-dollar ticket. Pretty pricey for this part of the state.
Marshall: Movie theater downtown has one screen and can't play anything newer than Jurassic Park. That costs the same, more if you get popcorn.
Agent Palmer: Fair enough.
Marshall: There was… there was someone there I wanted to ask to dance. Never got a chance to because… yeah.
Agent Palmer: Because you were locked in the bathroom for most of the night?
Marshall: Yep.
Palmer's notes indicate that Marshall looked 'displeased, regretful, frustrated'.
Marshall: I… I don't even know what happened.
Agent Palmer: You have ligat— you have handprints around your neck.
Marshall: I do?
Marshall touches her neck at this point. An exclamation of pain is picked up on the microphone.
Agent Palmer: The police believed he tried to strangle you, and didn't…
Marshall: Finish the job?
Agent Palmer: Essentially.
Marshall: Okay, yeah, that… I was trying to find the guy I wanted to dance with. I was about to talk to him, when… when Greg came up to me.
Agent Palmer: Greg being the… individual who caused this event.
Marshall: Yep. I… okay, I gotta be honest? He… everyone knows he's fucked up. We've always known.
Agent Palmer: How so?
Marshall: Ms. Hipp, our fifth-grade teacher. She… when Greg got into her class in August, there were three hamsters in the cage there. One of them went missing in September. Its head was found in… in Mr. Power's desk.5 Ms. Hipp got rid of the hamsters after that. We all knew it was Greg that did it.
Agent Palmer: He harmed animals?
Marshall: And people. He was… he kept on pulling hair, hitting kids… he once nearly broke the arm of another kid. Absalom. He doesn't go here anymore, I think he's in juvie.6
Agent Palmer: So, he was always a bully?
Marshall: Yep. It… I can't say it was his fault. His mom did awful things to him. He kept showing up to school with burns on the back of his hand. She died earlier this year.
Agent Palmer: How?
Marshall: I… think she OD'd.7
Agent Palmer: I see.
Marshall: It… look, it doesn't matter. I… I can't even remember what the hell happened. He came up to me, and I went into the bathroom to get away from him. Next thing I know, I'm waking up halfway in a body bag.
Agent Palmer: Didn't you have anyone to… get away to? Someone you felt safe around?
Marshall: I don't have a lot of friends. I'm kind of a wallflower, honestly.
Agent Palmer makes a note: 'who says 'wallflower' anymore?'
Marshall: I don't mind it. I spend a lot of time reading and watching stuff. Mainly true crime.
Agent Palmer: Sorry, what's true crime?
Marshall: Lizzie Borden, Ed Gein, Ed Kemper… or more modern stuff like the Brockton Bay Binder. Analysis of actual real-life crime stuff. It… I thought it was fun.
Agent Palmer: Does this… hobby of yours include mass-casualty events?
Marshall: Yeah. That's why I don't think it's fun anymore. Because… when I saw one of the bodies, I realized something.
Agent Palmer: What?
Marshall: Do you know who Charles Manson is?
Agent Palmer: Of course. Cult leader whose followers—
Marshall: Do you remember anyone his cult killed? Their names I mean.
Agent Palmer: Sh—
Marshall: Other than Sharon Tate.
Several seconds of silence.
Marshall: Can you remember the names of anyone who died at Columbine? Can you name a single person Rodney Alcala killed? Henry Lee Lucas? Hell, Jodi Arias— she was massive when I was in junior high! And everyone talks about her, but nobody, nobody remembers the name Travis Alexander! All of these horrible, horrible people…
Palmer makes a note: 'subject seems transfixed with the concept of violent individuals'.
Marshall: And nobody remembers the people that they killed. Just that they killed people. That's what's going to happen here.
Agent Palmer: Do you feel… guilty about that?
Marshall: Why would I feel guilty? I'm pissed off. I want to look him in the eyes at his trial and read out the names of everyone he killed.
Agent Palmer: His… trial?
Marshall: There's evidence all over the place. And I'm a pretty good witness. He's totally going to be executed. Feel sorry for his sister, though; wonder who's going to take care of her.
Agent Palmer: You… don't know?
Marshall: What?
Agent Palmer: Gregory Arnoldson is… dead.
Marshall: What?! When? Did he fucking— what did he do?!
Agent Palmer: Ms. Marshall, you killed him. You don't remember?
Marshall: …no. There…
Marshall inspects her prom dress, noting discoloration from exposure to acid. She looks at the hem of her dress, which is slightly carbonized.
Marshall: There's no way. There's… I can't have. No, I… I would remember it. I would… Oh God, is that why I'm here? The— the police won't tell me anything.
Agent Palmer: Killing someone is highly traumatic, Ms. Marshall. But I don't think you have to worry. If anything, you're… you're a hero.
Marshall: Why can't I remember it? What the hell? And… if I killed him… why isn't there any blood on my dress?
Agent Palmer writes a note: 'dress does appear to have minimal blood spatter. anomaly hematokinetic?'
Agent Palmer: I'll put you in contact with a therapist in the area. I'm going to stop at the vending machines before I leave; can I get you anything?
Marshall: Uh. I-I feel… I'm gonna be sick.
Agent Palmer: They have Sprite. I find that settles the stomach.
Marshall: Please.
Agent Palmer: Of course. Be right back.
Agent Palmer exits the room and finds a secluded area to make final notes.
Agent Palmer: Marshall has experienced severe trauma and appears to have either suppressed the memory of the murder, or else entered a 'blackout' state where the memory did not form. Furthermore, due to the fact that Marshall was unconscious and incapable of witnessing the majority of the anomaly's rampage, including any apparent anomalous activity, I am not recommending amnestic treatment at this time, as it would be a… a waste of resources.
Marshall is heard loudly retching in the background.
However, reports of Ms. Marshall's heroism have already been reported in the media, with the New York Post publishing a leaked image from the school's surveillance system showing Marshall terminating the anomaly. It is infeasible to contain the information that she is responsible for resolving a mass casualty event. As such, I am recommending that she be sent to a Foundation counselor operating at a civilian psychiatric practice so she may be monitored further.
End recording.
Selected Therapy Session Excerpts RE: POI-8097-001 (Gwendolyn Marshall)
Interviewer: Dr. Malcolm Robinson
Date of Interview: 07/02/2012
Session #: 3
Dr. Robinson: Come on in, Wendy. How are you feeling?
POI-8097-001: I'm… not doing too great.
Dr. Robinson: What's wrong?
POI-8097-001: I've applied to seven different colleges, and none of them want me. Apparently, I'm a—
POI-8097-001 makes quotation marks with her fingers.
"controversial figure" and they don't want anything to do with me. Like, how the fuck is that fair? I don't even remember what the hell I did!
Dr. Robinson: Where have you applied?
POI-8097-001: U of M Amhearst. Bridgewater. Tufts, Bently, Cambridge.
Dr. Robinson: Not trying out for Harvard or MIT?
POI-8097-001: Harvard was my dream school. I wanted to go into their criminology major. But I have literal blood on my hands, and the prestigious institution that it is doesn't want someone like me going there.
Dr. Robinson: That hardly seems fair. What were you planning on doing with the degree?
POI-8097-001: Was planning on getting into Quantico.
Dr. Robinson: FBI? That's not a bad career path.
POI-8097-001: Yeah. But then I got to experience it first-hand.
Silence on the recording.
POI-8097-001: I didn't even see that much. I have nightmares of him pinning me down and…
POI-8097-001 rubs her neck and gasps softly.
POI-8097-001: I don't even know what he did to me. But… I don't think he was… he was normal.
Dr. Robinson: He was mentally disturbed, yes—
POI-8097-001: Not what I mean. I… I was locked in the restroom. It only locks from the inside, and there's no other way out. He'd have to walk through a wall to get out of there. And he killed half a dozen more people before…
POI-8097-001 lets out a soft sob.
POI-8097-001: Why can't I remember killing him? Why… why don't I remember?
Dr. Robinson: It's normal for people to suppress memories of traumatic events.
POI-8097-001: It's like… I wasn't even there. But I had to have had… some presence of mind. I poured acid on him and set him on fire. What kind of psychopath…
Dr. Robinson: Let me stop you there. I've treated actual psychopaths. You're not one, I can tell you that. You're someone who's gone through trauma, and that can leave you isolated and scared. Tissue?
POI-8097-001: Please.
POI-8097-001 is heard blowing her nose and sobbing further.
POI-8097-001: What if I turn out like him?
Dr. Robinson: I don't think mental illness is transmissible like that.
POI-8097-001: There was… people thought that Greg killed his mom. His mom might have run over someone with a car a few years back. What if there's some kind of… I don't know. What if I kill someone next, keep the cycle going?
Dr. Robinson: You're an intelligent young woman, Wendy. You have a bright future ahead of you. And I'm going to help you achieve it. Part of our counseling services here include helping people find jobs and get into school. If you want, I could set you up with one of our life counselors.
[Approximately thirty-eight minutes of irrelevant data has been expunged.]
POI-8097-001: You're not from here, are you, doc?
Dr. Robinson: I'm afraid not. But this seems like a fairly nice town.
POI-8097-001: It's a small town. Everyone knows everyone else here. But… ever since it happened, nobody's been willing to talk about it. We held a big memorial service during graduation, but… none of the people Greg fucking killed were even named. They just showed their pictures, like that was enough. I want their names to be remembered.
Dr. Robinson: What were their names?
POI-8097-001: Arnold Jameson. Max Parker. Carlie Planter. Eric Striker. Mandie Jones, she… she was the chaperone who was on the roof. Officer Mark Allan. Officer Nigel Jay. Chief Landon Hunter. Ms. Kyra Cameron, she… she was the guidance counselor. I… I miss her.
Dr. Robinson: Were you close to any of them?
POI-8097-001: Not really. Just kept my head down and didn't make many friends. Ms. Cameron was nice to me when I went to see her.
Dr. Robinson: Did you see her a lot?
POI-8097-001: Once or twice a month. I… the school said I had a tendency to 'behave inappropriately' in class.
Dr. Robinson: How so?
POI-8097-001: I'd laugh when I wasn't supposed to. Would work on my homework during silent reading. Sometimes I'd fall asleep in first period— school starts at goddamn seven in the morning, what do they expect? But she was understanding. She wasn't one of those counselors who just… pretended to give a shit for their paycheck.
Everyone remembers the maniac who brutalizes a school. But nobody remembers the people who he killed. They blend into the background. Like I always did. That's not fair. These people shouldn't be wallflowers for the rest of time. They deserve to be remembered.
Dr. Robinson: How do you aim to do that?
POI-8097-001: …I don't know.
Dr. Robinson: Something to think about for our next session, then. Good seeing you again, Wendy. Same time next week?
POI-8097-001: Two weeks. Going out of town with my family starting on the fifth.
Dr. Robinson: Of course. Happy 4th, by the way.
POI-8097-001: You as well.
Photo of POI-8097, retrieved from the Facebook page of Gwendolyn Marshall's Private Investigation service circa 2021
Item #: SCP-8097
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Investigation into SCP-8097 is currently underway. The cadavers of the victims have not displayed any anomalous properties, and as such, containment efforts are currently focusing on investigation into POI-8097.
Description: SCP-8097 refers to an unknown subject responsible for four anomalous murders in Hunter's Creek, Massachusetts. The connection between each of these deaths is evident in the presence of a sigil of unknown significance at each of the murders, always painted on the wall opposite of where the cadaver is discovered. Due to the fact that these sigils bear a resemblance to flowers, the media has dubbed SCP-8097 the 'Wallflower Killer'.
Each murder committed, to date, mirrors methods used by the previous SCP-8097 iteration, Gregory Arnoldson, in a mass casualty event on May 20th, 2012. Furthermore, the attacks exclusively target survivors of the 2012 incident, with the first four victims consisting of three students and one teacher.
Currently, the most likely candidate for SCP-8097 is Gwendolyn Marshall (POI-8097), a survivor of the Arnoldson incident. Since 2014, Marshall has worked as a private investigator within ███████ County, operating out of Hunter's Creek following her failure to enter any institution of higher learning. Marshall had been in contact with two of the four victims through a support group which she had helped create in 2017.
Foundation agent Allan Weeks, posing as an FBI Special Agent, was dispatched to interview Marshall.
Agent Weeks activates his body camera within 17 West Main Street. They are on the second floor, before a door with a frosted glass window. Text on the window reads: "Gwen Marshall, Private Investigator. Marital Disputes, Lost Items, Runaways." Weeks knocks on the door.
Marshall: For god's sake, Gary, I told you, I'll have the rent tomo—
Weeks: Miss Marshall, I'm with the FBI.
Silence from the other side of the door. It opens several seconds later. Marshall is twenty-seven years old, pale, with green eyes and unkempt brown hair. She is wearing a T-Shirt which says "CrimeCon2019" and a pair of blue jeans. A pistol is at her left side, secured in a holster.
Marshall: What do you want?
Weeks: I think we both know what I want. I want to talk about the Wallflower killings.
Marshall laughs.
Marshall: You think I'm doin' it, don't you?
Weeks: I…
Marshall: Look. You ain't the first person to think that. It's a small town, and word gets around. Psycho's goin' around killing survivors of the massacre, has to be the crazy chick who's obsessed with true crime.
She shakes her head.
My old therapist even popped back into my life to see if I was 'doing okay'8. I fired him five years ago, and he still thinks he has a say in my life.
Weeks: Look, Miss Marshall, I just… this is the most prolific serial killer that Massachusetts has seen since—
Marshall: Since Alfred Gaynor. I know. I share a birthday with him— December 10th.
Weeks: Then you understand why the FBI has an interest in this?
Marshall: Why send only one person, then? Why don't you have a team with you?
Weeks: I… I'm here to assess the situation.
Marshall: Let me see some identification.
Weeks: Of course.
Weeks hands Marshall a counterfeit FBI badge, supplied by the Foundation.
Marshall: …Got a bridge to sell me too?
Weeks: What?
Marshall: The FBI stopped using this seal back in '07, and it hasn't used this style of serial number since the '90s. Who are you, really? Bear in mind impersonating a fed can get you three years behind bars.
Weeks sighs.
Weeks: Okay, you got me. I'm a true crime junkie, like you.9 The FBI… they're not interested in this yet. I'm hoping to help get them interested.
Marshall: And… you thought the best way to do that was… playing Agent Mulder?
Weeks: Okay, when you put it like that…
Marshall: Name one of Rodney Alcala's victims.
Weeks: Try three. Charlotte Lamb, Jill Parenteau, Robin Samsoe.
Marshall: How many times was Travis Alexander stabbed?
Weeks: 27 to 29. Maybe 30 if you count the throat being slit, on top of the gunshot wound.
Marshall: How did AJ Fader die?
Weeks: Stabbed himself in the eye. Nobody knows why.
Marshall: …okay, so you know your stuff. Let's talk.
Marshall invites Weeks into her office. A pair of office chairs sit on either side of a medium-sized folding table with a laptop on it. Behind it is a blank whiteboard; Marshall spins the board around to reveal several photographs, documents, and lines of dry-erase ink making up a tableau which documents the murders committed by SCP-8097.
Weeks: Jesus.
Marshall: I… was hired to tail the first victim. Abigail North. She was captain of the cheer team. Her husband thought she was cheating on him, and when she… I found the body. She was strangled.
Weeks: Like you were.
Marshall: Yeah. But that's the thing. Second and third victims, Gary Nicholson and Dave Wyatt, were cut up and stuffed into some lockers at the furniture factory. Fourth vic, Mrs. Kirby— that is, Alice Kirby, she used to teach algebra— was found on the roof of the library, with pink flowers in one hand.
Weeks: Identical to the original murders.
Marshall: Not quite. Nicholson and Wyatt, they were cut up into chunks so they could fit into the locker; Max and Arnold, the victims they're meant to correspond to, they were dismembered and decapitated, not chopped up. And Mandie Jones, who was found on the roof— she was the fifth person murdered. Third and Fourth were Eric and Carlie.
Weeks: And then there's the fact that… well, you survived.
Marshall: I'm kinda creeped out that you're familiar with my case, but yeah. They're meant to look like a copycat, but they're gettin' stuff wrong, and not just the geographical details. So…
Marshall picks up a marker and draws a question mark in between the third and fourth victims.
Marshall: Either they skipped two on purpose, or we're missing two victims.
Weeks: Hopefully it's the former. Now, you said that the second and third were found in a locker room, third on the library…
Marshall: There's a skylight there, like at the school. Abigail was found in the bathroom of the movie theater. They're mimicking general locations, not so much exact details.
Weeks: Striker and Planter were killed in a locker room… where all have the authorities searched?
Marshall: I go to the rec every day to work out and haven't found a body yet. Same with the pool, and the new high school.
Weeks: Sorry… new high school?
Marshall: They shuttered the old one after what Greg did. It's still standing there, in the middle of a field.
Marshall falls silent, turning to face Weeks.
Marshall: You don't think…
Weeks: I'm already impersonating a federal officer. Why not add trespassing to the list?
Marshall: I think I kinda like you.
Weeks and Marshall have crawled under a hole in the fence surrounding the former Hunter’s Creek High School. The school has been shuttered since mid-2012, but has not been demolished, due to a lack of funds allocated by the ███████ County commissioner’s office. Power was shut off in early 2013, and despite the security measures (a two-and-a-half-meter tall fence surrounding the property, irregular patrols by the Hunter’s Creek Police Department, a single security camera at the northern end of the perimeter), it is regularly broken into and vandalized.
Weeks: You do this a lot?
Marshall: Can’t tell you how many junkies I’ve found here. No budget to tear it down, no budget to keep it safe either. I actually have a stash of narcan in my old locker, just in case.
Weeks: They never even took out the lockers?
Marshall: They took out one. For crime scene analysis.
Weeks: Right.
They approach the front entrance of the school. It is covered by wooden boards, which are secured in place by a chain.
Marshall: Shit. They replaced the boards since last time.
Weeks: Now what?
Marshall steps back and scans the area.
Marshall: Give me a boost. I can get in through the second floor, and open a window down here.
Hunter's Creek High School Building, photographed in 2010
Weeks: They’re big enough?
Marshall: This was built back in ‘02. Architect was from Colorado.
Weeks: What’s that got to do with—
Marshall: He figured schools could use more escape routes, so he made the windows big enough to be climbed out of.
Weeks:…ah. Gotcha.
Weeks assist Marshall into the second-floor window. She climbs in.
Weeks: Hold up!
Weeks throws Marshall a radio. She catches it midair.
Marshall: Seriously? Huh. This is serious stuff.
Weeks: Two-mile range. Military surplus.
Marshall: I’ll let you in, gimme ten.
Marshall disappears into the school. Week’s radio blares static, before she speaks.
Marshall: Testing.
Weeks: I hear ya. What’s it look like?
Marshall: Abandoned. Bringing back bad memories, but what else is new?
Weeks: School doesn’t agree with a lot of kids.
Marshall: There's more to it than that. Schools are designed to give scars. You have rules that punish bullied kids for trying to fight back. You have principals and superintendents being hired from the military or the department of corrections. You have curricula that teach propaganda and mythology as undisputed fact, and discourages debate. The day before prom, it was announced that the football team would get a $100,000 grant to get new gear and fix up the locker room — only the boy’s locker room, keep in mind — while the rest of the school district didn’t even have air conditioning.
Weeks: Same story everywhere in the country, Marshall.
Marshall emerges from the window in front of Weeks.
Marshall: Just because it’s raining shit everywhere doesn’t mean I have to like the smell.
Weeks: …I didn’t hear you take the stairs. Over the radio, I mean.
Marshall: I have quiet shoes. Come in.
Weeks enters the building, entering a dilapidated classroom. Desks are absent, but the whiteboard up front remains intact. The words “GrEG LIVS”[sic] are written in permanent marker upon the board. Marshall turns on a flashlight.
Marshall: Okay, locker room is this way.
Weeks: They took the desks, but not the lockers? Huh.
Marshall: Lockers have to fit in the hallways, desks are one-size-fits-all.
Marshall and Weeks walk onwards, into the hallway. The school is heavily dilapidated, with several parts of the modular ceiling having crumbled. A burst pipe has led to a large amount of mold growing on the floor. They round the corner into the atrium of the building, and head north, down the hallway leading to the gymnasium.
Marshall: Look at that.
Marshall points her flashlight to a bootprint on the floor.
Weeks: Men’s size ten, I’d say. When did it last rain?
Marshall: About a week ago. Hold on.
Marshall photographs the bootprint using her phone’s camera.
Weeks: Ain’t gonna get good quality outta that.
Marshall: I left my Nikon at home.
Weeks and Marshall proceed further in. Several other bootprints are present, eventually leading them into the men’s locker room. Within, [COGNITOHAZARD EXPUNGED]. A sigil of a flower, painted in blood, surrounds the bodies. To prevent the cognitohazard from being recorded, Weeks turns off his camera.
Weeks: Jesus Christ!
Marshall: They… what… what’s wrong with their… why are their bodies…
Weeks: Fucking… don’t photograph it!
Marshall: Why?
Weeks: Just… trust me on this. Now, I… I think we have enough to get the FBI involved. Fucking Christ.
The Boston branch of the Unusual Incidents Unit was contacted, and several technicians trained in handling anomalous remains conducted an autopsy in situ. They concluded that the state of the cadavers matched that of the third and fourth victims of the original Hunter’s Creek Mass Casualty incident.
As of May 8th, 2022, SCP-8097 remains at large.
Selected Therapy Session Excerpts RE: POI-8097-001 ("Gwendolyn Marshall")
Interviewer: Dr. Malcolm Robinson
Date of Interview: 09/12/2013
Session #: 67
Dr. Robinson: Word about town is that we have a new P.I.
POI-8097-001: Not yet. I'm going down to Boston for an apprenticeship for a few months. Then I have to take a few exams, and then I take a certification.
Dr. Robinson: Why become a private investigator, though? I suppose it's the closest thing to an FBI agent available.
POI-8097-001: That's… one way to put it, I guess. Mainly, I just… I kind of have this itch.
Dr. Robinson: What do you mean?
POI-8097-001: I just… feel a bit restless. Have been since the… since last year. I feel like I need to pursue something… something useful.
Dr. Robinson: No luck with college, still?
POI-8097-001: Nearest place that will accept me is in goddamn Ohio. But honestly? Becoming a P.I. means I don't have to go into eternal debt.
Dr. Robinson: No scholarship programs are available, I suppose?
POI-8097-001: Turns out that when you're not in any clubs, teams, or anything else extracurricular, on top of being a fucking murderer, colleges don't want to offer you so much as a handshake.
Dr. Robinson: That doesn't seem fair.
POI-8097-001: It's what I live with. Perks of being a fucking wallflower.
Dr. Robinson: You keep on using that word to describe yourself. Do you think that's accurate? That you're introverted?
POI-8097-001: There's more to it than that. I'm… beneath notice. One of my earliest memories was mom breaking the windows of the SUV to get me out because she had left me in the car on a hot summer day and forgot about me. Sometimes I wish she had just… left me in there.
Dr. Robinson: Is being beneath notice a bad thing in your new line of work?
POI-8097-001: No, I guess not, but… I feel like everything that happened at prom just got swept under the rug. High school's still closed, Greg's ashes are scattered in the woods somewhere, and… people don't talk about it anymore. Sandy Hook and the other dozen mass shootings we've had since then have overshadowed it.
Laughter is heard.
I've been banned from Wikipedia seven times because I'm trying to maintain a page about the thing. You know what they call it? A 'Mass Casualty Incident'. Not a shooting, or a stabbing, or a slaying. Ten people dead, and they call it an 'Incident'. Twice I was banned because I tried to add a list of the victims. It's like… nobody wants to remember them.
Dr. Robinson: Seems to run counter to your… hobby.
POI-8097-001: What, you mean true crime? Anyone who says they're a 'fan' of that is a goddamn ghoul, as far as I'm concerned. They can give me their opinions on what makes a serial killer tick when they have a degree in criminal psychology, and not a fucking second sooner. Everyone cares about the spectacle. Nobody cares about who died.
Sighing is heard.
I can't even bring myself to feel angry about it. It's just… that's just the way the world works. When you need help the most, the world fails you.
Dr. Robinson: Do you feel as if I'm failing you?
POI-8097-001: …I've been coming here for over a year, doc. I'm wondering when the healing starts.
Dr. Robinson: In that case, we can try something next session. Have you ever heard of EMDR?
POI-8097-001: I don't listen to Skrillex.
Dr. Robinson: …pardon?
POI-8097-001: EDM? Electronic dance music? Techno?
Dr. Robinson: Oh, no. EMDR is a form of therapy that focuses on letting one process trauma through repeated left-right-left-right stimuli. Let me give you some material on it, one moment…
Following the discovery of a pair of cognitohazardous cadavers at the former Hunter's Creek High School, Agent Weeks and Marshall contacted the Federal Bureau of Investigation. However, Marshall was unsatisfied with the outcome of events.
Marshall and Weeks are at Jerry's, a local 24 hour diner, shortly after sunset. Marshall has ordered a relatively large meal, with a rare steak, coffee, and a slice of cherry pie. Weeks has ordered a cup of coffee and a plate of chicken fingers.
Marshall: What was wrong with the bodies?
Weeks: I… I don't know.
Marshall: But there was something wrong with them, right?
Weeks: Yeah. It… they shouldn't have looked like that. They couldn't have. Right?
Marshall: Who are you really?
Weeks: Sorry?
Marshall: You carry around military-grade radios, you have counterfeit FBI badges, you know your shit when it comes to true crime… you know how hard it is for people to even talk about what happened at the school around here? It's like there's a mental block. One that you don't seem to have.
Weeks: I'm… not sure what you…
Weeks is silent for several seconds.
Weeks: Oh, son of a bitch.
Marshall: What?
Weeks: There aren't any memorials to what happened around here? None at all?
Marshall: None. I've always thought it was… odd. Like, I've studied trauma in communities affected by mass tragedies, ranging from Columbine to Parkland, and there's always some kind of memorial. I tried to organize one a few years ago, and didn't even get a dozen signatures on the petition. There's something wrong here.
Weeks: …Tell me the names of the victims again.
Marshall: Arnold Jameson. Max Parker. Carlie Planter. Eric Striker. Mandie Jones. Officer Mark Allan. Officer Nigel Jay. Chief Landon Hunter. Ms. Kyra Cameron.
Weeks attempts to write down the names as Marshall says them. Their pen records unintelligble scribbling.
Weeks: …son of a bitch, they're anti-memetic.
Marshall: Anti-what? Back up, what are you talking about?
Weeks: That's a… really long story, Marshall.
Marshall: …holy shit. You're with the Founders, aren't you?
Weeks: The— what?
Marshall: The Global Founders. Parawatch claims they're a conspiracy that rules the world, like the Illuminati if they were on steroids and managed to lock god up in a cell. I remember seeing the word 'antimemetic' on a thread about them. It means 'can't be remembered', right?
Weeks: …fucking Parawatch of all things. Yeah, that's exactly what it means. But if I can remember the victims…
Marshall: That means that the killer is a copycat. Also, are you actually part of the…
Weeks: If I told you, Wendy, I'd have to kill you.
Marshall: Good fucking luck, Allan.
Weeks: I mean it.
Marshall: After I got my last rejection letter from college, I tried Tylenol with an Everclear chaser. Gave me indigestion.
Weeks: A potassium overdose wouldn't show up on an autopsy.
Marshall: …okay, so let's say you are part of the Global Founders, but can't tell me. If I turn out to be aberrant— that's the term you apparently use for people with special abilities— are you going to have to take me in?
Weeks: You're not. I checked you out because you survived the slaying. You're… nothing special.
Marshall: I'll take that as a compliment.
Weeks: That's not—
Marshall: If I was aberrant, you'd know. Was Greg…
Weeks: Anomalous? We think so, given that he could… do stuff like teleport, and survive point-blank gunshot wounds.
Marshall: …well, the killer's still out there. Think the FBI can handle it?
Weeks: Maybe. But… something's bugging me.
Marshall: What?
Weeks: The sixth victim was killed using the body of the fifth victim, right? Crushed when the skylight broke. If these are strict copycats, then… god, this might be the third time I see another body used as a murder weapon.
Marshall: I thought of that. I have a friend who works at the morgue, he padlocked the drawer where they kept the victim they found on top of the library. Family had them cremated a couple of days ago.
Weeks: Maybe that'll break the streak, then, if the killer can't copy the deaths exactly.
Marshall: That's my hope, but this guy seems oddly determined.
There is a sound of glass breaking from behind Weeks. He turns to see a waitress at the diner falling into a pool of blood, struck on the head by a blunt object. A distinctive blue-and-black ring is on her right hand. The camera shows a grey, ash-like substance covering the floor, and a metal funerary urn by the body. The sound of a car driving off is heard.
Weeks: The fuck?!
Marshall stand and inspects the body of the waitress, putting her hand on the woman's neck to check for a pulse; she shakes her head.
Marshall: Literally didn't know what hit her.
Weeks: What was the name of the victim found on the rooftop?
Marshall: Alice Kirby. Why?
Weeks picks up the urn. The inscription on it reads "IN LOVING MEMORY OF ALICE"; however, it has been partially defaced with a flower-like sigil.
Weeks: Well, shit. You didn't happen to get their plates, did you?
Marshall: No. And what's worse, the pattern's changed.
Weeks: How so?
Marshall: The last few victims, with one exception, were cops. This was just some… random waitress in a diner. A crime of….
Marshall pauses.
Marshall: They wanted me to see this. They're taunting me.
Weeks: You can't—
Marshall: Do you have some kind of a tracker on you?
Weeks: …maybe? Why?
Marshall: Get rid of it. They're tracking me through you.
Weeks: Marshall, you're being paranoid.
Marshall: Someone just fucking got killed with someone else's cremains, Weeks. There are… okay, assuming they're only copying people who died at the school, and not anyone else… we have three more chances to stop them. But we have to figure out a pattern in who they're targeting.
Weeks: Do you know this woman?
Marshall: She's about my age, so… I probably went to school with her. Actually… wait, that ring she has.
Weeks: You recognize it?
Marshall: It's an end-of-watch ring. Tradition some cops have, they're given out to family if they're killed in the line of duty. There's probably a date on it.
Weeks puts on a pair of gloves and lifts the woman's wrist to inspect the ring.
Weeks: 5/20/12. 'Miss you, dad'. Are any of the other victims related to the original kills?
Marshall: …I hadn't even considered that. We all went to school together, and it's such a small town. Most of us might be cousins, honestly.
Weeks: Let's check it out.
Investigation found that all of the victims in the 2022 killings were related, either by blood or by marriage, to the original victims of the 2012 slaying.
- Abigail North's cousin Brandon had married into Gwendolyn Marshall's family in 2015.
- Gary Nicholson and Dave Wyatt were, respectively, first cousin of Arnold Jameson and step-brother of Max Parker.
- The two unidentified, cognitohazardous cadavers showed genetic markers which indicated that the female cadaver was an aunt of Eric Striker, and the male cadaver the uncle of Carlie Planter.
- Alice Kirby was Mandie Jones's half-sister, from another marriage.
- Suzanne Allan, the waitress whose death Weeks and Marshall witnessed, was the daughter of Mark Allan, the first victim among the HCPD.
Working on this information, Weeks contacted the Foundation and attempted to render all living family members of the three remaining victims into protective custody. In the process, Marshall— who had agreed to wear a body camera on behalf of Weeks, in the event that they became separated— had the following encounter:
Marshall is in Gardener's Grocery Store, the largest extant grocer in Hunter's Creek, having taken the place of Walker's following Arnoldson's spree. She is waiting to speak to the manager, Elliot Cameron, brother of Kyra Cameron, one of the final victims of the original spree. As she waits by the register, she is approached by Dr. Malcolm Robinson. Robinson is carrying a plastic grocery bag with a round object in it, possibly a watermelon.
Dr. Robinson: Heard you caught a big break in the case, Wendy.
Marshall: Don't call me that. I'm not your patient anymore.
Dr. Robinson: Mm-hmm. But aren't we still friends?
Marshall: …you lost your privileges to address me as anything other than "Ms. Marshall" at our last session. I still don't know what the fuck you were thinking.
Dr. Robinson: It's been five years at this point, Wendy. Didn't we talk about moving past trauma?
Marshall's hand obscures the body camera, briefly. An impact is heard, and when Marshall's camera turns on Robinson again, he is bleeding from his nose.
Dr. Robinson: I suppose I do deserve that.
Marshall: No shit. Leave me alone.
Dr. Robinson shrugs and makes their way out the front door. Marshall is joined by Weeks approximately thirty seconds later.
Weeks: Any idea why someone just walked out of here with a broken nose?
Marshall: He decided to get smart with me.
Marshall notices a bloodstain on the ground where Dr. Robinson was standing, approximately 10cm across.
Marshall: Jesus. Didn't think I hit him that hard. He on blood thinners?
Weeks: …his collar was barely red when I saw him. What the…
Marshall's camera follows a trail of blood towards the manager's office.
Weeks: …what the fuck?
Weeks and Marshall make their way to the office. Within, they find a decapitated[COGNITOHAZARD REMOVED]. The spray from the decapitated body has formed a flower-like pattern on the ceiling. Marshall covers her camera.
Weeks: …holy shit. That's…
Marshall: Who we came here to find. Dammit. That must… wait, that has to mean that… my old therapist is a serial killer?
Weeks: What? What sense does that make?
Marshall: …okay, so I… there's something I need to tell you about Dr. Robinson.
Weeks: I'm calling the feds first, then you can tell me everything you want.
Interviewer: Dr. Malcolm Robinson
Date of Interview: 09/07/2017
Session #: 157
Dr. Robinson: How do you do it?
Marshall: Do what?
Dr. Robinson: Less than four years as a P.I., and you hold a state record for missing persons found.
Marshall: A lot of them just… were dumb kids who ran away from a bad situation. I helped get them out of it, to a degree.
Dr. Robinson: What about the Saldego case?
Marshall: Pure luck.
Dr. Robinson: And am I to understand that you were shot? Twice?
Marshall: They were flesh wounds. What are you getting at?
Dr. Robinson: Do you believe that Gregory Arnoldson was normal, in life?
Marshall: He was a fucking whackadoo who killed over fifteen people! How is that 'normal'?!
Dr. Robinson: There exist certain archetypes in the world, ones that you and Gregory lined up with perfectly. Gregory was the hunter, the ultimate killer, the unbreakable knife, but somehow… somehow, he ended up dying to a woman. One he tried to kill, but ultimately survived. Someone who kept themselves and their lives private, until they rose up to the occasion and…
Marshall: Is this a joke, or did you take shrooms while watching Cabin in the Woods back-to-back with Behind the Mask? My life is not a goddamn slasher movie.
Dr. Robinson: I didn't say anything about it, but you did notice the parallels. You are a conduit, Gwendolyn. And I believe that, in the moment you slew Gregory, you obtained some of his power.
Marshall: Go fuck yourself. I'm done.
Dr. Robinson: Wendy, get back he—
Recording is interrupted.
Dr. Robinson: P-patient was… intensely… uncooperative. Project Ant Hill should be… should be suspended until… until further notice. Son of a bitch, I think she broke my fucking arm!
Marshall and Weeks are in the former's office. Marshall's board has been updated to include a picture of Robinson. Marshall is looking through the room.
Marshall: Someone's been in here.
Weeks: What do you mean?
Marshall: My gun's missing.
Marshall picks up her chair, revealing torn tape underneath it.
Marshall: And so is my spare. Shit. Robinson must know we've rumbled him.
Marshall approaches a window with a flower box in it and opens it, inhaling the air from outside.
Marshall: Did you know that in 2021, there was an average of one mass casualty incident—
Weeks: Every twelve and a half hours, give or take. Yeah. I'm aware. Which is why I'm surprised you own guns, plural.
Marshall: I only use it when I need it, and right now, I really need it. They're all gone, god dammit.
Marshall turns to the board.
Marshall: Robinson's a Global Founder too, isn't he?
Weeks: …different department from me. But…
Marshall: What the fuck got into him? And what's with…
Marshall pins a photograph of the flower-like sigil found at the crime scenes on her board.
Marshall: The hell is with this? Copycat killing where you mutilate the relatives I can see some sick logic behind, but… they call him the 'Wallflower Killer'. I used to call myself a wallflower a whole bunch. Is he… has he been taunting me this whole time?
Weeks: …I need to look something up.
Marshall: Go for it.
Weeks pulls up the original SCP-8097 file, which concerns Gregory Arnoldson, reading the updated containment procedures.
Weeks: Do you know where Arnoldson is buried?
Marshall: Yeah, I visit there once a month to make sure nobody vandalizes his grave.
Silence on the recording. Weeks is heard clearing his throat. Marshall's expression turns consternated.
Marshall: I was hired to do it by his sister. It's the only steady paycheck I have at this point.
Weeks: …he has a sister?
Marshall: Julia. She lives in Oregon, so she's probably not in danger.
Weeks: Where's he buried, Marshall?
Marshall: Flower Street Cemetery. Right by the… western… wall.
Several seconds of silence.
Marshall: …can you look up where this sick motherfucker lives?
Weeks: One sec.
Weeks paces the room, searching on their phone for Dr. Robinsons whereabouts. He finds an address after several seconds.
Weeks: Shit. He's literally across the street from it.
Marshall: What?!
Weeks: Apparently he bought an old funeral home? Fuck if I… look, we know where he is, and we gotta stop him.
Marshall: I… don't think he's there, Allan.
Weeks: What? Where do you think he is?
Marshall nods over Weeks's shoulder. He turns, and sees Dr. Robinson standing behind him, holding a chef's knife, approximately 33cm in length.
Dr. Robinson: You know, studies have shown that people are less likely to scream at the sight of a knife, as opposed to the sight of a gun. And this particular knife is… special.
Weeks: Bullshit. The Genovese knife got melted down after that fiasco with O'Brien.
Dr. Robinson: Ah, you have a discerning eye, Agent. This is only a replica, I'll grant you that. But a knife is a knife.
Dr Robinson approaches Weeks. Weeks draws their weapon in response.
Dr. Robinson: Allan. Stop Carrying Pistols.
Agent Weeks drops their weapon as a memetic trigger phrase is spoken.
Dr. Robinson: I'm not going to kill you, don't worry. You have no part in this ritual. But I do need to slow you down.
Weeks: What ritual? Wendy, run!
Dr. Robinson: Gwendolyn, if you climb out that window, his esophagus is going to get a clear view of the ceiling. Allan, Project Ant Hill was a disastrous failure because we couldn't replicate 8097's anomalous abilities. I didn't have anywhere else to go. They gave me a nice severance package, didn't even bother with the amnestics! But something like him only comes around once in a generation.
Weeks: So, what, you're going to bring him back from the dead? He was cremated specifically to prevent that from happening, dumbass.
Dr. Robinson: Oh, no. I'm not going to bring him back. But I'm going to make sure that his powers find a new vessel, finally, since it doesn't seem to have taken with this murder-obessed bi—
A gunshot rings out, and Robinson suddenly clutches their shoulder, gasping in pain. Blood emerges from the wound as they clutch their shoulder
Dr. Robinson: Wh— you paranoid bitch! I got all your guns!
Marshall: Nobody thinks to look in the flower box.
Robinson flees out of her office. Marshall discharges her weapon two more times, shattering the window on her door. Cursing, she approaches Weeks.
Marshall: Allan, are you okay?
Weeks: Yeah. We gotta follow him. If he can't get to the victims, he's in the endgame now.
Marshall: The hell did you mean, 'the Genovese Knife'?
Weeks: Well, that's a long story. The knife that was used to murder Kitty Genovese was an anomalous—
Marshall: —was a hunting knife, not a kitchen knife. I've seen it in person.
Weeks: …you know what? I'll ruminate on that later. I… look, if I try to pick up my gun right now, I'd literally have a blood vessel burst in my brain, long story. I can drive, though.
Marshall: Let's head to this son-of-a-bitch's hideout. Time to end this.
Marshall and Weeks pull up to 12 Flower Street. It is a large house, three storeys tall, converted from a funeral parlor into residential living space, with approximately 278m3 of interior space, constructed in the 1960s. Marshall is in the passenger's seat.
Marshall: What's that Ant Hill thing he was talking about?
Weeks: It's… there's a department where I work that focuses on trying to make humans into living weapons. Robinson was part of that department, and he thought that Arnoldson was naturally one of these. He also thought that the… condition was transmissible.
Marshall How?
Weeks: He theorized that Arnoldson's mother got it from accidentally hitting that pedestrian, and Arnoldson got it from her somehow.
Marshall: …I knew Greg killed his mom. He started acting weird right after she died. But… I killed him.
Weeks: And clearly that theory didn't stick, because you aren't…
Silence on the recording.
Weeks: …Tylenol with Everclear…
Marshall: Let's talk about this later. Right now—
The windshield shatters abruptly, and Marshall's dialog, and breathing, abruptly ceases.
Weeks: Holy shit. W-Wendy? Marshall? Oh, fuck… holy shit, that… oh god, I'm… dammit. Robinson!
Weeks dives out of their vehicle as more shots ring out. They are holding the replica knife that Robinson dropped earlier.
Weeks: God, fucking memetics.
Weeks takes cover at a corner of the house, attempting to pinpoint the location that he is being shot from. Frame analysis from this period of time indicates that Marshall has vanished from Weeks's vehicle; this is not acknowledge by Weeks.
Weeks: Robinson! Come out and fight like a man, you son of a bitch! The fuck is he up to?
Weeks attempts to gain entry into Robinson's house. The walls are covered by memorabilia related to true crime, including photographs of several serial murderers, and replicas of bladed and blunt weapons which were used in their sprees.
Weeks: …shit, I need backup.
Footsteps are heard overhead. Weeks makes their way to a staircase; however, they stop at the bottom.
Weeks: A fucking tripwire? What's it connected to?
Weeks follows the wire and discovers a wooden panel in the hallway is lose; behind it is a Claymore mine. Weeks disables it and continues upstairs.
Weeks: You son of a bitch. You fucking psycho. All this for what? Just so you could try to gain his power? What does that accomplish?
Weeks turns down the hallway, and sees Robinson in a far room, crouched over a sniper rifle. As he begins to approach, the door abruptly closes.
Weeks: The hell?
Dr. Robinson: H— who are— how did you— no, of course, it makes sense. You inaudible looked away for no more than inaudible seconds. It's miraculous, you—
Screams ring out as Dr. Robinson's dialog is interrupted. Weeks attempts to open the door, but finds it blocked. Over a minute later, it opens, and Weeks finds Gwendolyn Marshall standing over a pile of eviscerated remains. The only aspect recognizable as Malcolm Robinson is his severed head, which Marshall is holding. Marshall is notably not covered in any blood spatter.
Weeks: …Wendy… drop the head.
Marshall: What, you think I'm going to kill you, Allan? After everything we've been through?
Weeks: Considering you lied to me about being an anomaly…
Marshall: To be fair, at first, I thought you were just. An amateur investigator. I thought that 'I have superpowers that make me good at being a serial killer' would be a hard sell. Marshall frowns. I guess this is the part where you take me in, then?
Weeks: …I'm afraid so. Weeks takes out his phone.
Marshall: Managed to keep this a secret for a decade. Of course you turn out to be—
Marshall's eyeline is drawn to something on Weeks' chest. The body camera picks up a weak glow, as if from the screen of a phone.
Marshall: …Allan…
Weeks: What?
Marshall: Run.
Weeks turns to leave the room; as he does, his body camera becomes abruptly disconnected.
Allan Weeks was later found, alive, in the trunk of his own vehicle; after-action testimony claims that Marshall (now designated SCP-8097-A) abruptly assaulted and subdued him, before fleeing to parts unknown. Currently, Marshall is at large, and is considered a Keter-class threat, due to the difficulty of tracking and containment.
