SCP-9005 - SCP Foundation

SCP-9005

The snack that smiles back.

rating: +258+–x

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⚠️ Content warning: Okay, who ordered the party platter?

Abuse CWs: Emotional abuse, lying, and gaslighting from a therapist. Attempted manipulation into suicide. Bullying.

Violence CWs: Gore. Mutilation. Animal sacrifice. Blinding. Torture. Body horror.

Sex CWs: Sexual topics discussed for the purposes of bullying.

Misc. CWs: Fatphobia. Ableism. Kiwifarms mentioned.

rating: +258+–x

⚠️ content warning

Closest approximation of SCP-9005's appearance, based on eyewitness accounts. Photography of SCP-9005 is not possible.

Item#: 9005

Level4

Containment Class:

euclid

Secondary Class:

none

Disruption Class:

vlam

Risk Class:

critical

link to memo

Special Containment Procedures: Notice: Following Incident 153-A-Maybud, the containment procedures for SCP-9005 are in the process of emergency revision.

Description: SCP-9005 is a metallic artifact of unknown origin. Its first recorded appearance came in the form of scant details in the journal of Sir Rupert Murgatroyd, a 16th-century Cornish baronet, collector, and de facto instance of SCP-9005-A.

Sir Rupert Murgatroyd

All efforts to accurately describe SCP-9005 have been hindered by the fact that SCP-9005's image cannot be captured on film or photograph, instead appearing as inconsistent visual distortions. Attempts to directly observe its "uncoupled" state have uniformly resulted in the observer becoming an instance of SCP-9005-A. The "coupled" state can and has been directly observed, but attempts to sketch or verbally transcribe its detailed appearance have been marred by the fact that making visual contact with SCP-9005 for longer than 0.5 seconds results in a subconscious impulse to look away. Researcher Farnese's unofficial artistic depiction (see above) is the closest approximation to date from secondhand details.

The following descriptors have been unanimous among analyses of SCP-9005:

It weighs 3.21 kilograms.¹
It is primarily dull-golden in color.
It is composed of a metallic head, a red semitransparent eye, and between 500-2,000 thin metallic tentacles.
The head is between 5-7 cm in length and 4 cm in width.
The tentacles are anywhere between 1.2-3.8 meters long, possibly capable of variations in size.
The tentacles are medically sterile and capable of piercing human skin effortlessly.
No method to destroy it has been discovered.
It is capable of autonomous movement and flight.
It cannot be removed from an SCP-9005-A.
When uncoupled, SCP-9005's tentacles wind into a single appendage. (As a result, most eyewitness comparisons liken its shape to that of a snake.)

Additionally, perception of SCP-9005 in a human subject's presence is only capable if said subject has met one of the following requirements:

The subject has heard the phrase "Murgatroyd's Viper" spoken aloud within the past 24 hours.
The subject has made visual contact with SCP-9005 previously.
The subject is an instance of SCP-9005-A.

Otherwise, the subject will fail to perceive SCP-9005 or any SCP-9005-A's resultant bodily disfigurement.

Further information is restricted to personnel with 5/9005 clearance.

From: pcs.noitadnuof|1150#pcs.noitadnuof|1150
To: pcs.noitadnuof|21ojnuw#pcs.noitadnuof|21ojnuw
Subject: URGENT - Welfare Check

This message is for Captain Kendrick Flannery of Local Task Force Wunjo-12 "Pharaohs of BFE." The fact that we even have a Local Task Force based in Effingham, Illinois is news to me, but given the circumstances, it's welcome news.

The Administrator of the Foundation is currently visiting her extended family at their farm. However, even on vacation, she hits a dead man's switch indicating that she's alive and well. Her last signal was due two hours ago. Her bodyguard has also gone unresponsive.

This is probably nothing. But in the rare event that the worst has come to pass, it's imperative that the Foundation finds her body before first responders. Radio chatter for the local police hasn't indicated that anyone else is worried, so let's keep it that way.

Further mission details enclosed in the attachment. Urgency notwithstanding, consider this your opportunity for Wunjo-12 to feign relevance for another year. My briefing on your track record indicates that you're in dire need of such a thing.

One more important detail I should put at the forefront: "Murgatroyd's Viper." Say that phrase aloud to all personnel conducting this mission. God willing, you won't need to find out why.

I'll be in touch.

- O5-11

Incident Log 158-A-Maybud

Team: LTF Wunjo-12 "Pharaohs of BFE"

Assignment: Welfare check/evac for Administrator

Squad leader: Cpt. Kendrick Flannery

Date/Start Time: January 10, 2025 / 03:20 AM CST

<Begin Log>

<00:00:00>: Flannery's body cam switches on in the trailer of a moving truck, Wunjo-12's incognito personnel carrier.

<00:00:12>: He turns toward the five other members of Wunjo-12 in the truck, all of whom are clad in outdated tactical gear and respirators on loan from the Nu-7 outpost in Peoria. He addresses his crew.

<Begin Log>

Cpt. Flannery: Okay, camera's live. ETA five minutes. Checking comms.

Pvt. Bill Jessup: Check.

Pvt. Nancy O'Halloran: Check.

Pvt. Robin Dabrowski: Testing.

Pvt. Melvin Wells: Check.

Pvt. Ortensia Chavez: Check.

Flannery: Okay, good —

Dabrowski: I mean, uh, "check." Sorry.

Flannery: (Sigh.) So, there haven't been any updates since we left. Anything could happen once we're out that door. My money's on either burglary or sabotage.

Wells: House fire?

O'Halloran: Unlikely. It's a clear night; you could see a house fire for miles. But I wouldn't rule out a smaller fire.

Chavez: Wasn't there a Broken God compound in Teutopolis²?

Wells: …shit, that's right.

Jessup: Fantastic! We finally get to make ourselves useful. As cannon fodder.

Flannery: Now, hang on, we don't know that for sure. And it's not like they'd send an army of reality benders to a single farmhouse.

Chavez: Unless they wanna send a message.

Wells: Out here?

Dabrowski: Maybe the Administrator slept in.

[Seven seconds of loaded silence.]

…y'know, like, when you're up late at night playing Candy Crush, and —

Jessup: Shut the fuck up, Dabrowski.

Dabrowski: Okie-dokie.

Flannery: In the meantime, I would like to take this opportunity to tell everyone the following: "Murgatroyd's Viper."

Chavez: What's that?

Flannery: Murr-guh-troids Vai-purr. As in "heavens to (blank)" and "poisonous snake."

Dabrowski: Heh. Snagglepuss.

Chavez: Okay… Again: what's that?

Flannery: Dunno. Some kind of counter-meme I'm supposed to tell you. Either way, it's important enough for me to have a direct line to O5-11 throughout this mission.

<End Log>

<00:03:33> They arrive at the farmhouse. The porch light is on. There's no visible signs of an attack from the exterior.

<00:04:02> At the head of the squad, Flannery knocks on the door.

<00:04:20> No response. He pounds on the door.

<00:04:37> No response.

<Begin Log>

Flannery: Mrs. Maybud³! We're from Wunjo-12, O5-11 sent us! Are you all right?!

O'Halloran: Hold on, let me try something.

Flannery: Hmm?

[O'Halloran squats down to the mail slot. She opens it and sticks in the head of a Henderson-Daniels handheld field sensor. A shrill alarm sounds on the device.]

O'Halloran: Carbon monoxide.

Jessup: Ope. That'll do it.

Flannery: She could still be alive! Move it!

<End Log>

<00:05:40> Dabrowski bashes the door down.

<00:05:50> The group splits up. Flannery leads Chavez and Wells through to the kitchen, opening all the windows as they go along.

<00:06:13> Kitchen is in nominal condition. No signs of life. There's a to-do list on the refrigerator whiteboard with every list item checked off except for "REPLACE CO DETECTOR."

<00:06:28> Jessup confirms that he shut off the house's propane.

<00:06:34> Flannery's party enters the guest bedroom.

<00:06:37> The Administrator is found lying in bed, wrapped in blankets. Chavez takes her pulse.

<Begin Log>

Flannery: Get her some air, quick!

Chavez: Yeah, that might have been a good idea four hours ago.

Flannery: Damn it!

[The three of them stand around her, incredulous.]

Wells: Well, it's not the worst way to go. And in her sleep, too.

Flannery: (Sigh.) Go check for survivors. I gotta tell the O5s.

[The other two leave.]

[Flannery switches his comms to the secure phone line provided by O5-11. O5 end of the conversation withheld as per 5/9005 protocols.]

Flannery: Status report. … Found her. She's been dead for hours. … Carbon monoxide poisoning. Looks to be accidental so far, but I'll need to investigate further. … Requesting clarification. … I'm sorry, what? … Let me check.

[He pulls one of the blankets down, exposing her neckline. The front of her neck has been torn open from within.]

Flannery: Whoa, uh … Yeah, there is. I think we might need to revise the cause of death. … Okay. One sec.

[He pulls back from the bed, exposing a trail of blood across the floor, leading from her neck and into the hallway. He peers into the hallway.]

Flannery: It's headed to the rec room. … Hold on.

[He switches the comms back to his squad.]

Flannery: Is anyone in the rec room right now?

O'Halloran: Just Dabrowski, I think.

Dabrowski: Hi, Snakey.

[A wet, metallic squelching noise.]

[5.2 seconds of radio silence.]

Flannery: …Dabrowski, status repo —

Dabrowski: [Constant, incoherent shrieking.]

Flannery: [Unintelligible over Dabrowski.]

O'Halloran: [Unintelligible over Dabrowski.]

Wells: [Unintelligible over Dabrowski.]

<Audio Log>

<00:08:23> Flannery disables Dabrowski's comms.

<00:08:43> The team assembles in the rec room. Dabrowski is found writhing on the floor, screaming, and clutching his throat with both hands. Blood seeps from his respirator and goggles. Several vein-like ridges appear along the exposed sides of his face, steadily growing upward. The others attempt to hold him steady.

<00:08:51> O'Halloran temporarily enables Dabrowski's comms to ask what's wrong.

<00:08:52> O'Halloran immediately disables Dabrowski's comms again and apologizes profusely.

<00:09:14> O5-11 makes emergency audio contact with Flannery.

<Begin Log>

Flannery: Yeah, he's, uh… look, he said "Hi, Mr. Snake" or whatever in the rec room, and — what? … Okay.

[Flannery kneels. He gestures for Dabrowski to remove his hands from his neck for a moment. Still mid-scream, Dabrowski nods weakly and obliges.]

[For the 1.7 seconds that his neck is exposed, Dabrowski's jugular notch is covered by a blob of visual distortion in the footage with hundreds of narrow ridges extending outward under his skin. The others look away on instinct.]

Flannery: Yeah, just like you described. … What.

[05-11 repeats his message.]

[Flannery spends 12 seconds on a single sigh.]

…understood.

[He switches comms back to his crew.]

Okay, that was O5-11. We're gonna sit here and keep him steady. Help is on the way.

And, uh, Dabrowski? Sorry in advance for this, but I'm under a Delta-level Priority Direct Order to inform you of the following.

…

Robin Dabrowski. From this moment forward, you are the Administrator-Elect of the SCP Foundation.

Dabrowski: [Muffled gurgling with the tonal implication of a question mark at the end.]

<End Log>