I CAN HEAR BETTER WITH A HOLE IN MY HEAD.
THIS MEMORANDUM IS DIRECTED TO
ALL LEVELS OF THE SCP FOUNDATION.
We are at war with our own shadow.
Over the past several months, a faction inside our organisation began to stray away from the foundational missions that were dictated by our founder. What was once ideological friction has escalated into an open insurrection and incursion. Their actions have already resulted in casualties, material losses, and the compromise of a few secure sites.
The group responsible believed that the Anomalous could be turned into a weapon, one for the betterment of mankind. When confronted, they chose violence over compliance. Never before has the Foundation witnessed the scale of internal aggression, as is seen here, since its ratification in 1901.
Let me be clear: this “affliction” is not an ally. Many of the entities under our jurisdiction were once human, but anomalous influence reshapes the mind, body, and soul. When we first bring affected individuals under our wing, we are swearing to them that one day they will be healed. When we first contain them, we are swearing to humanity that we will not allow the illness to spread further than it already has.
Rest assured, we have no intention of just rolling over; much to the chagrin of our enemy. We are formally declaring an organisation-wide state of emergency. All facilities will place their Tactical Response and MTF teams on standby. Additional directives and information will be issued as the situation develops.
After consultation with the Administrator, we have determined that transparency within the upper echelons is necessary. Henceforth, all files pertaining to this insurgent group will be declassified to Division Chairs, Department Directors and Site Directors in order to facilitate a unified response.
Remain vigilant.
Roland Foster
O5-1, Overwatch Command
FIGURE 1. Schema of Project Trinity Arrow containment apparatus and physical components.
SECURE CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES
DESCRIPTION
Despite most thoughtforms being extremely short-lived2, SCP-9050 predates recorded history and is hypothesized to coincide with the emergence of symbolic thought in early humans. Despite long-term changes in human society, SCP-9050 achieves persistent continuity through recurring motifs present in stories, artistic works, and theological frameworks spanning thousands of years, such as:
… the shaping of human understanding through the creation and preservation of a narrative.
… the testing of human character through ethical dilemmas and the consequences of choice.
… the anthropomorphization of the unknown as tangible entities with distinct temperaments and motives.
… the existence of an adversarial force fulfilling the role of deceiver, destroyer, or other antagonist.
Similar to the processes utilized by many ontokinetic entities, SCP-9050 manipulates reality to bridge the gap between humanity's collective consciousness and physical existence. When an idea, fable, or work of fiction utilizing SCP-9050's associated motifs becomes particularly widespread among sentient beings, some aspects of the target concept will spontaneously manifest in the form of novel anomalies.
Continuous reinforcement is required to maintain a thoughtform’s stability. In the absence of continued societal recognition, it is hypothesized that SCP-9050 will progressively destabilize and ultimately collapse, with all modifications induced by the entity gradually returning to a baseline state. As such, containment of SCP-9050 paradoxically poses substantial risk to the veil, as the baseline may no longer resemble the current shared consensus of reality.
CONTAINMENT OF SCP-9050 THROUGH PROJECT TRINITY ARROW
CLASSIFIED: LEVEL 5
HEARING BEFORE THE OVERWATCH COMMAND
SECOND SESSION
APRIL 2, 1958
Serial No. 1958-02-9050
Printed for the use of the Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
In attendance:
THE ADMINISTRATOR
SECRETARY OF REHABILITATION
SECRETARY OF ACQUISITIONS
SECRETARY OF OPERATIONS
SECRETARY OF RESEARCH
SECRETARY OF FINANCE
O5-1
O5-2
O5-3
O5-4
O5-5
O5-6
O5-7
O5-8
O5-9
O5-10
O5-11
O5-12
O5-13
ETHICS COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN
ETHICS COMMITTEE VICE CHAIRMAN
MTF ALPHA-1 OPERATIVE, Samson Howard
MTF ALPHA-1 OPERATIVE, Daniel Torno
FACTOTUM, Gabbi Locke
FACTOTUM, Ethan Bancroft
FACTOTUM, Jacob Dunleavy
The committee met, pursuant to notice, at 1:00 p.m., in room 038, Protected Site-01. Councilor O5-1 presiding as Speaker of Overwatch Command.
O5-1: The Overwatch Command’s second quarterly meeting of 1958 is now in session. And without objection, the Speaker is authorized to declare a recess of the Council at any point. All members will have 5 days to submit statements, extraneous material, and questions for the record.
O5-1: The first item on today’s agenda concerns Proposal 9050-1. I now yield the floor to Councilor O5-7, Mr. Ciarán Dunne, for opening remarks.
O5-7: Thank you, Councilor. Colleagues, I speak today regarding what our researchers have designated as SCP-9050, “The Egregore”.
O5-7: We have been aware of thoughtforms for years. However, if our hypotheses regarding the nature and origin of the Anomalous are correct, these thoughtforms may just be singular facets of a much larger construct: SCP-9050. It manifests as a self-sustaining consciousness that parasitizes off the very advantage that has allowed humanity to wander beyond the safety of cold, damp caves - our connectivity, communication, and transfer of information from generation to generation.
O5-7: Its significance cannot be understated. It is the bridge between the Anomalous and humanity itself — the reason no trace of anomalous phenomena predates the first appearance of early humans, and why every SCP in our records bears some connection to human influence. The truth was before us all along: humanity has always been the keystone, the hidden source from which the anomalous springs. It was us all along.
O5-7: Left unchecked, this anomaly will continue to manipulate our understanding of normalcy. It will continue to produce anomalies. It will continue to leverage precious humanity as a great evil upon the world.
O5-7: But we can put an end to this, once and for all. This proposal will forcibly excise SCP-9050 into a discrete physical manifestation, binding it into a paratechnological construct specifically designed for this very purpose. I am aware of the Committee’s regulations surrounding sapient entities - SCP-9050 will remain fully conscious and fully aware.
O5-7: Contained, our calculations estimate that all anomalous activity on Earth will cease to exist within three months.
[… 23 rows expunged]
Administrator: Indulge me, Seven. If you are successful - if the Egregore is torn from us and bound - then what? As your analysts suggest - if the anomalous arise from our collective consciousness, can we be certain that another won’t take its place?
O5-7: We cannot, with absolute certainty, prevent another construct from emerging in humanity’s wake — not while creation and fear remain parts of us. But this, at the very least, is within our reach.
O5-7: If we excise it, we sever the root. Should another arise, it will be nascent, unformed, without the mass or momentum of the thing now looming over us. It will be weaker, containable from inception…
O5-7: We won’t need to hide anymore.
[… 130 rows expunged]
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
| YEA | ABSTAIN | NAY |
|---|---|---|
| O5-01 | ||
| O5-02 | ||
| O5-03 | ||
| O5-04 | ||
| O5-05 | ||
| O5-06 | ||
| O5-07 | ||
| O5-08 | ||
| O5-09 | ||
| O5-10 | ||
| O5-11 | ||
| O5-12 | ||
| O5-13 |
| STATUS |
|---|
| REJECTED |
The Administrator, his cabinet, and the Committee representatives quietly departed back to their respective sectors of Site-01. Some O5s remained to discuss matters amongst themselves, with their personal staff standing by. Parting from the crowd, O5-7 couldn’t leave the room quickly enough. His ageless hand slapped against the meeting room door’s pushplate, teeth pressing against the inside of his cheek.
A slightly smaller man trailed after him, grazing against a Factotum’s shoulder on the way out. He muttered something of an apology without slowing down. For a moment, the Factotum turned to admonish his carelessness, but caught sight of who the man was trailing and thought better of it.
“You’ve never seen the Council act with courage, have you, Jackalope?” O5-7 asked curtly, his hands patting down his waxed auburn hair.
“Aside from induction, that was the first time I’ve ever been allowed in the meeting chambers, Overseer.” He said. “Usually, I’m told to guard outside.”
Daniel Torno, known by the codename “Jackalope”, looked nothing like a legendary Red Right Hand. He was shorter and slightly stockier; built more like an infantryman than a grizzled hero, with a face that was smoothed by more than just SCP-006. There was a stiffness to the way he moved too, like a man growing into boots too big for him.
“Well, I shall tell you now,” O5-7 said without looking back at him, “they have a tendency to wrap themselves with the rags of stagnation—” with an upturned lip, he scoffed, “—and have the audacity to call it caution.”
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Overseer,” Jackalope murmured, “but perhaps the proposal was too ambitious?”
“You’re forgiven.” The Overseer’s reply was sharp. “And it’s not ambition that’s the problem: it’s cowardice. We have been presented with an opportunity to finally put a stake in the heart of our age-old foe.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yet they refuse to finally put this to rest.”
“If not cowardice, I can only assume they’re clinging to the one thing that gives them power.” As the pair walked, O5-7 lit a cigarette.
“Of course, Overseer.” He could only offer a hollow affirmation; he wasn’t paid to have opinions. But there was a quiet relief in the outcome of the vote, one he had no intention of voicing. The thought of turning the anomalous against itself felt wrong in a way he couldn’t safely name.
“In a way, I had expected this.” The Overseer took a long drag of his cigarette. “Why would the blind thank me for trying to hand them a torch?”
As the Overseer spoke, Jackalope noticed the sheaf of papers nestled under his arm: a mixture of blueprints, data and diagrams he hadn’t bothered leaving on the table with the rest of the proposal. Instead of asking, he chose to bow his head in affirmation and silently escort his superior back to his office.
SITE-234 INCIDENT REPORT
ID: 234/A/1960-1293-7599
DATE: 01/24/1960
LEVEL 3 CONFIDENTIAL
TYPE OF INCIDENT: Breach of Containment
FOUNDATION RESPONSE:
Tactical Response Team “HATCHET”
Tactical Response Team “JUNKYARD DOGS”
MTF Beta-7 “MAZ HATTERS”
OBJECT: SCP-████
INCIDENT SUMMARY:
At approximately 03:15 EST, Site-234 experienced a catastrophic failure of SCP-████’s primary and secondary containment chambers. Initial automated safeguards failed to trigger, allowing the anomaly to rapidly progress into the southern containment complex.
Tactical Response Teams “Hatchet” and “Junkyard Dogs” were deployed within seven minutes of breach onset and began enacting recontainment and evacuation protocols. Initial attempts were unsuccessful, leading to TRT “Hatchet” being declared compromised following widespread infection. TRT “Junkyard Dogs” implemented a lockdown, noting apparent changes in SCP-████’s known properties, but failed to subdue the anomaly before it progressed into the broader facility.
Three hours following breach onset, MTF Beta-7 “Maz Hatters” arrives from off-site to address worsening conditions resulting from SCP-████’s infectious properties and subsequent spread to Sector-2 and Sector-3. TRT “Junkyard Dogs” is declared compromised following the loss of half of its operational capacity after a two-hour standoff with the SCP.
Despite repeated attempts by MTF B-7, recontainment measures previously proven to be effective showed no effect on SCP-████. Breach to surface and loss of anomaly confirmed at 16:18 EST.
At 23:42 EST, the Global Occult Coalition intervened without prior coordination, escalating hostilities and contributing to significant external casualties. Coalition forces deployed high-yield anomalous countermeasures, resulting in the confirmed neutralization of SCP-████, 36 civilian casualties, and over $1,000,000 USD in property damage. The action caused extensive veil disruption across 3 municipalities, with 178 separate eyewitness accounts requiring Class-A amnestic administration.
Casualty reports indicate 12 personnel confirmed dead and 3 unaccounted for, with an additional 24 sustaining critical injuries and/or anomalous infection. Containment infrastructure in Sectors-2 through -10 sustained irreparable damage.
Internal investigation into safeguard failures and unauthorized GOC incursion has been authorized under the directive of O5 Command. No definitive cause has been identified for the alterations in SCP-████’s properties.
The Department of External Affairs has been dispatched to liaise with local governments.
RECOVERED EXCERPT FROM INTELLIGENCE UPDATE
03/10/1960
FOR OFFICIAL USE
COMPILED BY: INTERNAL SECURITY DIVISIONS (SITES 15, 17, 19, 54; AREAS 02, 12)
ADDRESSED TO: SITE-01 (OFFICES OF THE OVERWATCH, THE COMMITTEE, THE ADMINISTRATOR)
[54 rows omitted…]
An anonymous publication has entered circulation, with analysts believing its reach may extend beyond just the scope of our facilities. The document places blame for the catastrophic breach of 01/24/1960, particularly the Coalition’s unauthorised involvement, on the Foundation’s very core principles. It offers what can only be described as a “scathing” critique of the High Command. It proclaims that the “notion that the anomalous is a victim of some profound curse is detrimental to the very humanity they swore to protect.” A full overview can be found in the enclosed document.
When embedded agents questioned proponents of this movement, the running narrative was that the Foundation was “hoarding [the anomalous] in cells,” and that it “[had] created a ticking time bomb - a cesspit of suffering, inside and out.” Many within this internal movement believe that High Command should discontinue the Veil protocol and utilize what could be used for the direct betterment of humanity while terminating the rest.
[12 rows omitted…]
PROPOSAL: The creation of an armed force of anomalous humanoids, designated MTF Omega-7, for use in high-risk containment operations. Implementation of an ‘authorized-for-use’ designation for non-sentient anomalies. Lessened restrictions on the usage of anomalous items classified as having ‘minimal’ deleterious effects. Increased access of Class C personnel to anomalous medical resources.
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
| YEA | ABSTAIN | NAY |
|---|---|---|
| O5-01 | ||
| O5-02 | ||
| O5-03 | ||
| O5-04 | ||
| O5-05 | ||
| O5-06 | ||
| O5-07 | ||
| O5-08 | ||
| O5-09 | ||
| O5-10 | ||
| O5-11 | ||
| O5-12 | ||
| O5-13 |
| STATUS |
|---|
| REJECTED |
EXCERPTS FROM O4 COMMAND RELAY
[O4-S64] 12:14:37, 07/21/1960
64/B/GREY-GREEN-BLUE — Detonation of an IED in Sector-10’s Keter wing. Small-scale containment breach of a mobile, infectious, biomass. Need assistance.
[O4-A12] 12:16:03, 07/21/1960
Understood Site-64. We’re routing MTF Beta-7 to your facility. Can you forward any additional details?
[O4-S64] 12:18:05, 07/21/1960
Information is scarce right now. Ground teams suggest that it was internal in origin. Something about a suspicious researcher? Figured it’d be better safe than sorry to tack on the CODE GREY.
[O4-A12] 12:19:37, 07/21/1960
Do you know if there are more?
[O4-S64] 12:20:56, 07/21/1960
No idea, Area-12. We’ll keep our eyes peeled.
[O4-A02] 16:18:09, 08/14/1960
02/C/GREY - Small-scale staff revolt. No support required.
[O4-S64] 18:20:15, 08/14/1960
We’re sending B-7s back. Definitely saved our asses, Area-12.
[O4-S19] 09:39:31, 09/05/1960
Site Sec just apprehended a small group during a logistics delivery. The drivers had the correct ID, but the security escorts didn’t; forgeries.
[O4-A12] 09:43:12, 09/05/1960
This can’t be a coincidence. For the last several weeks we’ve had the whole bullshit about that manifesto. Now all of this? Literally days apart?
[Q4-S19] 10:58:02, 09/05/1960
Site Sec ran a check of the trucks. It was filled with shit to make explosives according to the ordinance techs. Intentions confirmed following questioning, implicated several possible accomplices and accessories. Info can be found in the incident report, just needs to be cleared with RAISA first.
[O4-A12] 11:48:42, 09/05/1960
What the fuck?
“Multiple attacks, including those attempted, in such a short span of time.” The Overseer purred, his gaze gradually moved away from the screen and towards his faithful Red Right Hand, “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Yes, Overseer, it is.” The man in front of O5-7 stood stiffly, with his chest slightly puffed and gloved hands clasped behind his back. A rogue locke of blonde hair could be seen sitting upon his forehead, something he’d quickly fix when his superior wasn’t looking.
“It’s almost rhythmic; each day, a new human-derived threat comes to the doorstep of a different facility.” His fingers drummed upon his mahogany desk, “Yet despite demonstrating the ability to coordinate, they’re somehow still so very sloppy.”
“How so, Overseer?” Jackalope’s tone remained inflectionless and detached.
“Well, cheap forgeries and pathetic excuses for a ‘rebellion’ aside,” He smiled, “They’ve already surrendered so much information regarding themselves just through their little rallies. They’re almost making it too easy.”
“They’re holding rallies?” Was the first thought to pop into the Red Right Hand’s mind, “Inside of facilities?”
“In fact, Area-12’s O4 seems to be right on the money.” O5-7 continued, hand fixing at his crimson tie, “The fine individuals who paraded this little ‘movement’ around may very well be associated.”
“We even have some potential names, after security loosened their lips with a bit of… pressure.”
The Agent's expression twitched. The faintest tug of muscle pulled at the corner of his mouth, paired with the briefest tightening beneath the eyes. Something in the Overseer’s wording brushed against an old nerve—one Jackalope wasn’t supposed to keep, but Daniel clung to anyway: a conscience.
By the time O5-7 had a chance to look back, it was smothered. The reflex layered on top of reflex, on top of reflex, until nothing but a face of marble was shown. Or so he thought, anyway. The Overseer was perceptive; it was a borderline job requirement, and this wordless transgression, of all things, was no different. However, he let it pass, for the small fractures were always more revealing when left unmentioned.
The figurehead pulled himself from the soft leather of his chair, the gentle taps of his loafers echoing off the concrete walls. Marked by the clinking of glassware, he poured himself a drink—all the while, his ever-faithful Alpha-1 continued to perform his best impression of a statue.
“Do you know what I’ve always admired about these people, Jackalope?” He swirled his glass of amber absentmindedly, “Those on the ground think they’re philosophers stumbling upon a new line of thought. They act like this wasn’t a concept that had crossed the Council’s tables a hundred times before.”
Jackalope didn’t respond.
“It’s that particular boldness that can be found in their lack of self-awareness.” O5-7 mused, taking a drawn-out sip from his glass. “Such ignorance is what gives birth to the crashing waves of ideology.”
“Like any tide, it’s easy for others to get swept away by it.” He chuckles, “They preach, they recruit, they paint themselves as martyrs…”
“…and they die for nothing more than words upon a page.”
O5-7 set his glass down, allowing the liquid to catch the light before his fingers returned to drumming upon the surface of his desk—the man now perched atop it.
“Nevertheless,” He continued, his voice almost conversational, “despite their many flapping mouths, they allegedly only have three heads. Now, you know what happens to a body when you start removing those.”
“You think they’re centralised, Overseer?” Jackalope questioned.
“Not centralised: elevated.” He leaned forward, hands dipped between his legs, “And I think we can both agree that elevation makes for much more effective marksmanship, yes?”
Jackalope nodded in understanding. “Yes, Overseer.”
“Good.” O5-7 reached into a desk drawer and a manila folder was pulled from its wooden confines. It’s offered to the Alpha-1, who hesitates to move without authority. With a reassuring nod and expectant gaze from the O5, a hand reached to take it.
When Jackalope opened the folder and realised the assignment inside, the cheap cardstock felt impossibly heavy just from the names on it. When he was still a member of Tactical Response, they used to joke about the O5’s praetorian guard and how they’d “disappear” you if you stepped out of line. He wanted, no, hoped that it was just a joke—just a comedic continuation of their already shady reputation as a conspiracy.
His face may have been stiller than stone, but his heart wracked against the jail-cell bars of his ribcage.
“I understand my assignment, Overseer.” He replied, an uncharacteristic resignation slipping with his words as he held the file close.
“Then we have nothing else to speak of, Agent.” O5-7 gave his Red Right Hand something of a casual salute, it was met with no less than full courtesy by the man in front of him before he marches out.
“What in God’s name have I gotten myself into?”
PROPOSAL: Routine approval of the upcoming 1962 budget.
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
| YEA | ABSTAIN | NAY |
|---|---|---|
| O5-01 | ||
| O5-02 | ||
| O5-03 | ||
| O5-04 | ||
| O5-05 | ||
| O5-06 | ||
| O5-07 | ||
| O5-08 | ||
| O5-09 | ||
| O5-11 | ||
| O5-12 | ||
| O5-13 |
| STATUS |
|---|
| PASSED |
The elevator back to the Alpha-1 barracks was lonely and quiet—the only sound being the dull hum of the fluorescent light above. Daniel leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on the warped reflection in the polished metal.
His throat felt dry, his stomach knotted, and his arms were packed tightly against his chest without him noticing. He had taken lives before: sixteen years ago, as one of the 10,000 that jumped and the subsequent 2,000 that so much as made it home. He had taken lives again as a tactical response officer. But this felt different.
“It was for the greater good.” Jackalope told himself.
“After all, they were one of the three heads of the Enemy. If they weren’t ready to die by their words, they should have never let them leave their lips. Besides, it’s not as if disobeying an O5 was an option… orders were orders."
Daniel hunched inwards slightly as his eyes retreated from his reflection. The thought didn’t settle and neither did the feeling. The longer he contemplated, the more things began to slip.
There was no trial, nor tribunal. No hearing, nor sentencing. All he had received was metaphors, implications, and a manila folder. Maybe O5-10 was one of the ‘accomplices and accessories’. Maybe not. Either way, was he to believe that was enough?
Was that all it took to kill an Overseer? One accusation followed by an order? No less from someone who sat at the same table?
“You aight, kid?”
Daniel flinched, only just noticing that another Alpha-1 had entered right beside him. He was taller, older, and his eyes felt like daggers digging into him.
“You look like you’re off in la-la land.”
“Me? Yeah. I’m fine.” He stood straighter out of reflex, adjusting his collar, “This is my stop.”
He slipped out before the other man could say anything else. The hallway back to his quarters became nothing more than a blur to Daniel. When he finally opened his door, the room was dark and still…
…There was an envelope on his desk, stamped with a wax seal.
His hand hovered over the letter a little longer than it should have. When he finally broke the seal, there were only three lines inside:
PROCEED WITH SECOND OBJECTIVE.
DEBRIEF IN PERSON.
ALLOW 72 HOURS TO PASS BEFORE RENDEZVOUS.
The next morning came without sleep. Twilight clung to a low haze, blanketing the road ahead. The groan of the engine was one of the only things keeping Jackalope company, occasionally being interrupted by the radio transceiver on the dash. A mixture of dispatch codes, coordinates, and handshakes came through the mesh speaker; none of it directed at him.
The farther he drove, the more the sprawling industrial landscape of Site-01 thinned. Trees began to replace fencing. Rounded hills swallowed the square buildings. Cold, natural air found seams in the door.
“Just two more.” the Jackalope told himself. “Two more and it will be done. Won’t have to do anything like this ever again.”
Daniel didn’t believe a word of it, only now noticing that his knuckles had gone white around the steering wheel. He forced himself to loosen his grip
By the time the vehicle had finally come to a stop, the sun had barely crested the treeline. Jackalope stepped out, double checked the pockets of his suit jacket, and made the rest of the journey on foot. It was a private access road leading to an unmarked structure in a small clearing, just visible through the fog.
His eyes swept the area, taking in all the information they could. The outside was silent, aside from the crinkling of dried autumn leaves and the brief morning chorus of birds. While he walked, his head cycled through the protocol again: no announcement, no warnings, no hesitation. Enter, neutralise, leave no trace. By now, it should have been familiar. It wasn’t.
When he reached the end of the road, he realised the abundant lack of security posted outside. No patrols nor any staff. Just a locked door embedded in a concrete and sheet metal bunker. He checked for tripwires and other mechanisms before entering the combination and pushing in.
Something was clearly wrong, obviously not in the sense of resistance: it was too quiet, too still. Like he was late. Jackalope reached into the lining of his coat, retrieving a flashlight and pistol.
The stairs from the entrance down to the floor were excessive. If anything, its sheerness and the risk of falling felt like an intentional security design. No lights came on automatically. No footsteps approached, aside from his own echoing off the walls.
He waited to be sure that there truly wasn’t anyone else here, ears tuned to even the slightest sound. Nothing.
When he finally made it to the first junction, Jackalope swiped his flashlight around cutting through the dark. Dust stirred in the beam, drifting through the stale air. The corridor ahead was narrow, littered with conduits and rusted pipework. Every fifteen or so metres was a steel bulkhead, their positions staggered between the left and right walls.
He checked the floor, nothing but detritus and rodent droppings. When he looked up, Jackalope had found yet another bulkhead; this time in front of him. It was hung ajar with no signs of forced entry.
The man couldn’t help but peer inside: A desk, two chairs; one upright, one fallen, a mug filled with an unknown liquid, and a terminal that illuminated the wooden panelling of the back wall.
And on that wall…
Jackalope froze, staring at the sight in front of him. It wasn’t the body that stopped him in his tracks. It was the smear. A crimson spatter that shot up the wall, dark and congealed.
He stepped inside.
The body was behind the desk, slumped next to the fallen chair. The left arm hung limp against his leg; the other outstretched, like it was reaching for something a touch too far, with fingers still curling around a gun. In the opposite hand: a crumpled up page from a notebook.
O5-5 had been dead for hours.
He reached down, prying the page away from the stiffened grasp of the corpse.
I wanted to help. I was desperate to use my position to hoist mankind from the gutters, to alleviate suffering so that none may have to witness the horrors of reality again.
Yet, my legacy will be eclipsed by the shadow of a monster I helped create, like the complicit son of a bitch I am.
I’m sorry.
The Agent’s head tilts over to the desk. Papers, folders and personal items are scattered. A drawer is ripped from its guide rails, a box of bullets spilling out onto the floor amidst the stationary and loose items.
As he investigated the desk, his eyes can’t help but glide towards the terminal. The screen displayed a message that held monochrome scans of blueprints, data and diagrams. Jackalope’s brow furrowed at the sight, eyes squinting. A spark of recollection began to kindle a fire in his mind.
His back straightened when he saw the address line. The three pseudonyms in the recipient section were enough to make him step back—almost tripping over the corpse in the process. His eyes instinctually darted to the gun on the ground, then to the gun in his grasp. The hand trembled.
“You didn’t…” Daniel’s breath hitched, “I didn’t…”
His grip became tighter, finger twitching against the trigger. The pistol slowly raised and…
*BANG!*
A bullet was lodged in the ceiling—a near miss, he didn’t know if it was accidental or intentional. Daniel found himself sinking, back scraping against the wall. Anguish stung his eyes and all he could do was let it flow. His knees curl in, to hide such shame from any who could witness it.
It had been three days.
Jackalope trundled through the halls of Site-01, steps heavy and loose like a man who had nothing to prove. Dark rings encircled his eyes as his face bore the weight of years that were not his. His head bowed down as he walked and when his shoulder struck against a Factotum on the way; he didn’t utter a word.
When he made it to his destination, he wasted no time entering the office of his superior. He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t double check his attire, he just entered. When the door is shut behind, he is immediately met with an acknowledging smile from the man behind the desk. It was unrequited.
“Jackalope,” O5-7 claps his hands together and grins, “let’s waste no time in getting to brass tacks.”
“Okay.” The Agent nods as he does a half-hearted impression of a statue.
“Now.” The Overseer leans in—voice low, “Did you handle it?”
“Yes.” For a fraction of a second, Daniel’s eyes flicked away from his superior.
O5-7’s eyes narrow, the curled smile never quite leaving his face. “Oh, that’s good.”
His gaze lingered a moment too long on Jackalope. By all accounts, the Alpha-1’s reply should have been satisfactory, but that tiny twitch of the eyes—almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying attention—was a mark he’d seen before. It was hesitation, the ever-reliable tell when someone wasn’t painting the whole picture.
While the Overseer’s silence felt as if it lasted for a small eternity, Jackalope didn’t squirm under his suffocating leer. He simply did what he was best at: stand very still. In another time, he would find himself panicking—desperate to halt the wordless assault. This was not that time.
“I’m sure these tasks were difficult.” O5-7 finally broke the roaring quiet, “You have my eternal gratitude, Jackalope.”
“Thank you.” Daniel bowed his head with reluctance. The Overseer’s platitudes rang hollow to him.
“That aside, l have one last thing for you to do for me. Simple guard work.” He leans back.
Daniel had nothing to say in reply, only a deep exhale through his nostrils.
“I have a private meeting scheduled with my staff and another Councillor next week. I simply need to make sure that it remains private.” O5-7 waves his hand, “Otherwise, you may leave.”
Jackalope nodded once more before turning to leave. One foot out the door and—
“Oh, and Jackalope?” There was a firm grip that placed itself upon his shoulder. The soldier didn’t dare look back. “Keep your eyes sharp. I hear the shadows tend to linger more than usual.”
The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the office in silence. Daniel was at a loss for words.
THIS MEMORANDUM IS DIRECTED TO
THE LEVEL-5 OVERWATCH.
It is with a heavy heart that I must share the news of our friend and colleague: Zacharias Wood—formally known as O5-5—was found dead within an empty Foundation safehouse by his Factotum several hours ago. The coroner's report identifies a self-inflicted fatal injury as the likely cause.
Nevertheless, the circumstances remain under investigation. At present, memetic and psionic coercion has not been ruled out. Investigators have not completely ruled out miscellaneous exterior intervention either, such as hostile internal actors.
Due to escalating security threats linked to the Manifesto movement, the Administrator has no intentions to appoint successors at this time. In the interim, O5-7 has volunteered to assume operational control over O5-5’s assigned sectors. All communications, reports and directives that would typically be forwarded to the latter will be redirected to O5-7’s office effective immediately.
We ask that you keep Mister Wood in your prayers tonight.
Thank you,
Roland Foster
O5-1, Overwatch Command
Jackalope scoffed, tearing his copy of the memorandum as he arrived at his destination. It only served to embolden his contempt, and made the ghosts that haunted him all the more tangible. All he could do was wish that it was the bloated corpse of O5-7 he had come across in that dingy bunker.
He knocked on the door, a little more aggressively than he had intended: no response. He assumed they must have already started. With a sigh, he puts his back against the wall as he ‘guards’ the door.
Though, given everything he now knew, coupled with the festering sense of doubt, Daniel couldn’t help but listen in. Unsurprisingly, he can’t make out exact words, but the tone is low, both tense yet sombre. Occasionally he’d catch the odd word, but nothing that brought him any sense of closure.
CRASH!
The Agent jolts straight up, body twisting to fully face the door. Knocks, this time with deliberate force: no response. He twists the knob: it’s locked. He swipes his keycard against the reader: the device rejects it. He rammed his shoulder into it. The lock held.
Again, his shoulder strikes the door.
Again, the hinges began to groan.
Again, the latch finally gave in with a splintering crash.
The door burst inward. The room was in ruins, scattered papers, toppled chairs, dark red streaks on the table. He frantically scurried around, looking to try and find something. Then he saw the bookcase thrown sideways, a gap in the wall behind it. Site-01 had several evacuation tunnels. He was forced to memorise all of them. False walls, trapdoors, hidden elevators—all of them were littered frequently about the site. He knew this was one of them.
Daniel pushed through.
“Please, please, please, please” He panted, boot-leather slapping against damp concrete. He followed the narrow passage until it gave way to upturned earth and wheel tracks leading away into the trees. No footprints. No bodies. Only a path that vanished over the horizon.
The soldier fumbled for his radio and thumbed the button… then dropped it. The words refused to break past his lips as the gears in his mind began to churn. If he reported it, then he’d be a suspect by proximity. He had killed one of the Council’s own, what protection would a confession buy him now? But if he stayed silent, then he’d be complicit—no better than the man he so rejected.
He reaches for the scrap of O5-5’s note and clings to it as he’s frozen in place—his mind churning. Only then, would he realise what he had to do. He’d stay silent, yes. But he refused to just roll over. What happened would be buried within him under reflex layered on top of reflex, on top of reflex.
Of course, like any container that holds something volatile, its pressure would build.
Daniel would be there when it broke. Not today. Not tomorrow. But when the pressure finally needed release: it would be O5-7 in his sight, and it would be by his hands.
Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones; Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live:
And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the Lord.
So I prophesied as I was commanded: and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone.
And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and the skin covered them above: but there was no breath in them.
- Ezekiel 37:5 - 9
July 29, 1961. Let it be known: SCP-9050 is contained. From the heart of humanity it came; into the heart of man it has been returned.
The last of the fervent Triad has become the martyr who will finally bring an end to an era of demons and monsters. These years I have spent lying and stealing, the lives that I have taken to bring my Magnum Opus into the world — it will not be in vain. May God have mercy on my soul.
Its first and final victim rests in my Engine's core. For seven days, I watched as he hung from its steel ribs, begging, pleading, until his throat ran raw and his hands left bloody smears on the hot framework - You will be pleased to know you picked a fighter… but I’m sure the waters of the Fountain of Youth didn’t hurt.
And yet, even as the blood drained into the gears, my Engine was insatiable. Every twitch of muscle, every pulse of agony became torque, became rhythm. At the end of the seventh day of the seventh month, when my offering was nothing more than skin and bones and sunken eyes, it took its first breath.
It revealed itself to us in that moment - holy fire that burned and burned and burned but would not kill as it thrashed against the bars of the prison that I have made. In time, the anomalous will fade away until it is nothing more than a nightmare we all shared.
Until then, I will take it upon myself to stand vigil over the Egregore until it draws its last shuddering breath. My Insurgency will do what the Foundation never dared to - and it will be us that will lead humanity’s first wobbling steps into the light.
It’s trying to speak to me.
Figure 2. Photograph of what is believed to be SCP-9050. Human remains, censored, confirmed as belonging to O5-3.
“MAN-MADE DISASTER IN SLOW MOTION” - USSR’S LARGEST SEA IN DECLINE
London, June 14 — Western scientists monitoring Soviet water projects have voiced concern that the Aral Sea is shrinking at an alarming pace. The diversion of major rivers to feed sprawling irrigation networks is believed to be the chief cause, with water levels dropping continuously since 1961. Environmental experts warn that entire fishing industries may collapse, while growing salt flats threaten to turn once-vibrant coastlines into barren wastelands.
SMALL DEVIATION IN MOON’S ORBIT RAISES QUESTIONS
Washington DC, October 3 — Astronomers have detected a subtle but consistent deviation in the Moon’s orbit. While the shift is too small to be seen without precision instruments, it could have long-term impacts on Earth’s tides. While some point to gravitational influences, others admit the cause remains uncertain.
The rest were no better.
222 FOUND DEAD OF MYSTERIOUS CAUSES - CITY ISSUES LOCKDOWN
90% OF SEABIRDS CONTAMINATED WITH MICROPLASTICS
VIOLENT CRIME RATES ON THE RISE
DISEASE BELIEVED TO BE ERADICATED REEMERGES IN SOUTHERN ILLINOIS
34 MISSING IN MYSTERIOUS I-85 DISSAPEARANCES
TREMORS DETECTED IN NATIONAL RADIO QUIET ZONE
All of creation, bleeding out silently before my very eyes. I had believed in progress, in the triumph of mankind’s will over itself - a future free of the supernatural’s puppet strings. Yet what I saw was ruin stitched by my own hand: horizons stripped bare, waters that burned like acid, the nameless dead left on the streets, children burdened with the disease and misery of their progenitors. When I looked out upon the world, I saw only the devil grinning back. I severed a finger while the rest of the fist curled tighter.
I could not meet their eyes. I could not live with myself.
I CAN HEAR BETTER WITH A HOLE IN MY HEAD.
MTF Delta-5 operatives intercepted the following, discovered on a scrap of paper tied to a paring knife:
STEP 40/000. Draw forth from the dark, one whose absence will be noticed but never felt. Bare them before ME; as the serpent sheds its skin, part the flesh of the breast until what was one becomes two. Cast away the exuvia [the shed exoskeleton of an insect], for it is tainted by the Warden’s touch, and let the sanguine nature ease my pain.
GOI-003 is the designation given to the modern incarnation of the Chaos Insurgency. Reports of GOI-003 date back to the early 1960s, but activity consistent with the group’s operations has been noted as far back as 1958. Once considered a minor threat, it has since evolved into a decentralized but highly coordinated network, exploiting both anomalous objects and conventional resources to destabilize global veil maintenance efforts.
GOI-003 is led by an enigmatic individual, known as the Engineer, alongside seven individuals known collectively as the Delta Command. While information about the operations of the Chaos Insurgency’s high command is scarce, first-hand accounts from captured POIs confirm extensive reliance on a large paratechnological construct known as the Engine, a reality-bending ‘God Machine’ said to have been seized from the Foundation following rampant misuse. The Engine is believed to serve as a prophecy engine, generating ‘STEPS’ that, if fulfilled correctly, appear to generate tangible retrocausal effects on reality, benefiting GOI-003 members.
Despite GOI-003’s superficial resemblance to the Foundation (including the use of similar classification systems, response protocols, and field codes), it is marked by ruthless extremism and consistent exploitation and abuse of the anomalous entities it controls. Experiments and operations routinely result in permanent termination of the anomalies, with even highly intelligent humanoid anomalies being subjected to abhorrent conditions.
While widely recognized as a terrorist organization in the anomalous community, GOI-003 continues to thrive in unmanaged Nexuses and the underground networks of major urban centers. Estimated membership numbers range between 500 and 1,000 active personnel.
