NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION INTERNAL EXAMINATIONS DIVISION
All practical exams involving the investigation and/or use of anomalous substances/items/entities are cancelled until further notice.
Examination Substance YYKP-OYZZ ("Food"), and all corresponding practical examinations, have been removed from circulation indefinitely due to an unforseen hazardous property.
Discussions are underway to determine whether lateral thinking should be prohibited during practical examinations to prevent exposure of examinees/examiners to undiscovered properties of anomalous substances/items/entities.
— Broderick Lyons, Director, FIED

Foundation Practical Examination

Basic Anomaly Investigation
To demonstrate basic investigative skills and precaution when studying an unclassified, low-threat anomalous substance.

Level 1

Examinee Details

Last Name
McByrne
First Name
Sarah

Foundation ID
B
1
3
9
-
L
1
4
Y
-
2
J
Q
4

Examiner Details

Last Name
Aran
First Name
Rodney

Foundation ID
C
0
1
F
-
V
N
H
X
-
T
5
S
V

27/12/2018 08:30 AM

Conditions:

You have eight hours to complete this examination, beginning at the date and time stamped above.
Your examiner will personally oversee all tests you perform as part of this examination.
You must follow any instructions issued by your examiner.

You have been provided with:

2 litres of Substance A. (YYKP-OYZZ)

You may request further resources and/or instruments from your listed examiner.
You must:

Identify the properties of Substance A.
Develop appropriate containment procedures for Substance A.
Develop an acceptable database file for Substance A.

Please attach the entirety of your notes when handing in this exam, along with a digitally-printed copy of your completed database file.

27/12/2018

Liquid at room temperature. Opaque, dull red/purple colouration. Honey-like viscosity. Odour of custard and fresh bread. Psuedo-foodstuff? Ingestion required?
 \/ VISIBLE \/ AUDIBLE
No response to light. No response to sound. No response to contact from inanimate object/s. Inanimate.

READ LAST PAGE

Test 1: Illumination & sonics
Purpose: To determine if Substance A responds when exposed to electromagnetic radiation within or beyond the visible light spectrum and/or sounds within or outside the range of human hearing.
Hypothesis: As Substance A has thus far shown no reaction to standard lighting conditions & exposure to human speech, it is expected to remain inanimate throughout the test.

Resources:
- The on-site free-electron laser.
- The on-site tunable maser.
- 1 function generator (Instek SFG-2104).
- 1 oscilloscope (Owon PDS5022S).
- The on-site broad-range audio system.
- 12mL Substance A.
- 2 Petri dishes.

Method:
6mL of Substance A is inserted into each Petri dish (dish A & dish B).
Dish A is exposed to light between the wavelengths of 0.01 nanometres through to one metre in one second increments, with each increment modulating through a range of five millimetres (e.g. 0.01 nanometre wavelength to five millimetre wavelength). Dish A is monitored for one minute between each increment.
Dish B is exposed to a sine wave tone modulating between the frequencies of 1 hertz through to 10 gigahertz in five second increments, with each increment covering a 20 megahertz range. Dish B is monitored for one minute between each increment.

Observations:
Dish A showed no observable response between wavelengths 0.01nm - 115mm, nor 125mm - 1m. When exposed to light between 115mm to 125mm wavelengths, Substance A within Dish A emits a prominent, strobing red/violet glow for 215 seconds.
Dish B showed no observable response.

Results:
Substance A reacts to microwave radiation with wavelengths between 118mm and 122mm by erratically pulsing light at both ends of the visible light spectrum.
Substance A does not respond to any sound that can be reasonably replicated at standard atmospheric pressure. No further investigation seems relevant.

Test 2: Ingestion
Purpose: To determine whether Substance A exhibits anomalous properties when ingested.
Hypothesis: Based on the attractive odour of Substance A and its fruit-like colouration, it is believed the anomalous properties initiate when consumed, with the previous properties attempting to attract such.

Resources:
- 16mL Substance A.
- 3 healthy, male albino laboratory mice (Subject A2, B2, C2).
- 1 human subject (D-35489, Subject D2)
- 1 standard drinking bowl.
- Potable water for above.
- 1 carrot.
- 1 10mL syringe.

Method:
4mL of Substance A is inserted into Subject A2's mouth by use of the syringe, and forced to ingest.
" " applied to a section of carrot provided to Subject B2.
" " mixed into Subject C2's drinking water.
" " provided to Subject D2, who is instructed to consume it.
All subjects visually observed for thirty minutes.

Observations:
Subject A2 expresses distress at being forced to consume Substance A, but otherwise behaves normally for the ten-minute timeframe.
Subject B2 begins consuming carrot at T = 134s. Subject abruptly ceases movement at T = 141s. Subject noted to be rigid and does not show any response to stimuli. Declared deceased at T = 600s.
Subject C2 ingests a portion of water at T = 253s. Subject abruptly ceases movement at T = 258s. Subject is rigid and does not respond to stimuli; declared deceased at T = 600s.
Subject D2 expresses distrust of researchers claiming consumption of Substance A is safe before ingesting the sample. Subject D2 reports an intense bitter taste. Subject D2 exhibits no abnormalities for the remainder of the observation period.

Results:
Consumption of Substance A appears to cause spontaneous death after approximately five seconds under certain circumstances, as observed with Subject B2 and C2. Further testing is required to determine the precise conditions; may be related to combination with edible substances (as Subject A2 consumed Substance A exclusively, whereas Subject B2 & C2 did not), or potentially willingness to consume Substance A (as Subject A2 expressed distress at consuming Substance A, whereas Subject B2 & C2 did not). Substance A acknowledged to have an intense bitter taste, contrary to its odour.

Dissection of Subject B2 reveals no discernable cause of death beyond an abrupt cessation of all bodily functions. Organs appear healthy, possibly still functional if activity could be reinitiated. Although ingested carrot was located in-transit to the stomach, no traces of Substance A could be located, suggesting possible absorption into surrounding tissue or anomalous demanifestation. Dissection of Subject C2 produced similar results.

Subjects A2 & D2 retained for extended observation.

Test 3: Willingness/Combination
Purpose: To clarify the conditions under which Substance A's anomalous properties manifest.
Hypothesis: Based upon the results of Test 2, wherein Subjects A2 & D2 survived consuming Substance A while Subjects B2 & C2 did not, it is believed that Substance A will not manifest anomalous properties if either consumed unwillingly, or consumed alone.

Resources:
- 6mL Substance A.
- 4 healthy, male albino laboratory mice (Subject A3, B3, C3, D3).
- 2 human subjects (D-32148, Subject E3; D-65432, Subject F3).
- 1 carrot.
- 1 1mL syringe.
- 1 small drinking bowl.

Method:
1mL of Substance A is applied to a section of carrot provided to Subject A3. Subject allowed to ingest the carrot of their own volition.
" " B3. Subject forced to ingest the carrot.
1mL Substance A is provided to Subject C3 using the small drinking bowl. Subject allowed to ingest Substance A of their own volition.
1mL Substance A is forcefully fed to Subject D3 by use of the syringe, and forced to ingest.
1mL of Substance A is provided to Subject E3, who is informed it is an experimental, mild sedative. Subject E3 requested to consume the provided sample.
Subject F3 restrained and forcefully fed 1mL of Substance A.
After consumption, all subjects are visually observed for 30 minutes.

Observations:
Subject A3 consumes carrot after several minutes, then abruptly ceases movement at T = 5s. Subject is rigid for remaining period of observation, declared deceased.
Subject B3 expresses distress at forced consumption of carrot. Subject exhibits expectable behaviour for the entire period of observation.
Subject C3 consumes Substance A after several minutes, then abruptly ceases movement at T = 4s. Subject is rigid for remaining period of observation, declared deceased.
Subject D3 expresses distress at forced consumption of Substance A. Subject exhibits expectable behaviour for the entire period of observation.
Subject E3 consumes Substance A at T = 2s, then abruptly ceases movement at T = 7s. Subject remains rigid for remainder of observation period, declared deceased.
Subject F3 resists consumption of Substance A, but is successfully forced to ingest. Subject reports intense bitter taste and extreme distrust for researchers, but exhibits no abnormalities for remaining observation period.

Results:
Anomalous properties of Substance A appear to manifest exclusively when it is ingested willingly;combination with edible substances appears irrelevant. Dissection of Subjects A3, C3 & E3 is consistent with results of Subjects B2 & C2, with no traces of Substance A being located, and no discernible cause of death. Subjects B3, D3 & F3 retained for extended observation.

Test 4: Taxonomic range
Purpose: To determine whether Substance A responds specifically to ingestion by certain taxonomic families, or all species uniformly.
Hypothesis: As Substance A's anomalous properties have been confirmed to be triggered by consumption by both Mus musculus (the species of mouse used in Tests 2 & 3) and Homo sapiens (the species of human used in Tests 2 & 3), it is likely they will trigger for a wide range of species. Nonetheless, repetition is necessary to ensure Homo sapiens uniformly trigger it.

Resources:
- 1 goldfish (Carassius auratus), Bubble Eye breed. * Chordata, Actinopterygii
- 1 generic fishbowl (full, water).
- 1 domestic cat (Felis catus), domestic short hair breed. * Chordata, Mammalia, Carnivora, Feliformia
- 1 domestic dog (Canis familiaris), Shar Pei / American Staffordshire Terrier breed. * Carnivora, Canidae
- 1 cockatiel (Nyphicus hollandicus). * Chordata, Aves, Psittaciformes
- 1 chicken (Gallus gallus domesticus), Leghorn breed. * Chordata, Aves, Galliformes
- 1 domestic goat (Capra aegagrus hircus), Angora breed. * Chordata, Mammalia, Artiodactyla, Bovidae
- 1 domestic guinea pig (Cavia procellus), Abyssinian breed. * Chordata, Mammalia, Rodentia, Caviidae
- 1 domestic pig (Sus domesticus), Large Black breed. * Chordata, Mammalia, Artiodactyla, Suidae
- 1 Australian water dragon (Intellagama Lesueurii). * Chordata, Reptilia
- 1 common rat (Rattus norvegicus). * Chordata, Mammalia, Rodentia, Muridae, Rattus

Chordata - Mammalia - Rodentia - Muridae - Mus (Mouse)
 - Rattus (Rat)
 - Caviidae (Guinea Pig)
 - Carnivora - Feliformia (Cat)
 - Canidae (Dog)
 - Artiodactyla - Bovidae (Goat)                            /\
 - Suidae (Pig)                                          ||
Chordata - Aves - Psittaciformes (Cockatiel)
 - Galliformes (Chicken)
 - Reptilia (Dragon)
 - Actinopterygii (Goldfish)

Resources:
- 1 goldfish (Carassius auratus), common (Subject A4).
- 1 chicken (Gallus gallus domesticus), Leghorn breed (Subject B4).
- 1 domestic pig (Sus domesticus), Large Black breed (Subject C4).
- 1 domestic cat (Felis catus), domestic short hair breed (Subject D4).
- 1 domestic guinea pig (Cavia procellus), Abyssinian breed (Subject E4).
- 1 common rat (Rattus norvegicus) (Subject F4).
- 1 generic fishbowl (full, water).
- 5 standard drinking bowls.
- Potable water for above.
- 5gm goldfish flakes.
- 6mL Substance A. 16mL Substance A. 21mL Substance A.
- 1 goldfish 1 goldfish 1 goldfish 1 goldfish 1 goldfish 1 goldfish (Carassius auratus), Bubble Eye breed (Subject G4).
- 1 domestic dog (Canis familiaris), Shar Pei / American Staffordshire Terrier breed (Subject H4).
- 1 domestic goat (Capra aegagrus hircus), Angora breed (Subject I4).
- 1 cockatiel (Nyphicus hollandicus, Subject J4).
- 1 Australian water dragon (Intellagama Lesueurii, Subject K4).
- 10 human subjects (D-34856, Caucasoid, Subject L4; D-76486, Congoid, Subject M4; D-64821, Capoid, Subject N4; D-34985, Mongoloid, Subject O4; D-79345, Australoid, Subject P4; D-98314, Caucasoid, Subject Q4; D-35682, Congoid, Subject R4; D-32145, Capoid, Subject S4; D-91472, Mongoloid, Subject T4; D-34682, Australoid, Subject U4).

Method:
1mL of Substance A is mixed into Subject A4's water, along with 5gm of goldfish flakes. Subject A4 monitored for ten minutes.
If Subject A4 remains active at the end of their observation period, 1mL of Substance A is mixed into Subject B4's drinking water. Subject B4 monitored for ten minutes.
If Subject B4 remains active at the end of their observation period, 1mL of Substance A is mixed into Subject C4's drinking water. Subject C4 monitored for ten minutes.
The above is repeated for Subjects D4 through U4, ceasing when one induces Substance A's anomalous properties.

Observations:
Substance A introduced into Subject A4's water at T = 1s. Subject A4 begins consuming the goldfish flakes at T = 4s. Subject A4 ceases movement at T = 9s, but remains neutrally bouyant.
Subject B4 consumes contaminated water at T = 32s, ceasing movement at T = 37s.
Remainder of test cancelled
Subject C4 consumes contaminated water at T = 64s, ceasing movement at T = 69s.
Subject D4 " " T = 67s, " " T = 73s.
Subject E4 " " T = 68s, " " T = 73s.
Subject F4 " " T = 77s, " " T = 82s.
Subject G4 " " T = 85s, " " T = 90s.
Subject H4 " " T = 86s, " " T = 91s.
Subject I4 " " T = 87s, " " T = 92s.
Subject J4 " " T = 88s, " " T = 94s.
Subject K4 " " T = 90s, " " T = 95s.
Test canc
Subject L4 " " T = 110s, " " T = 115s.
Subject M4 " " T = 121s, " " T = 126s.
Subject N4 " " T = 127s. Subject fails to trigger anomalous properties, exhibiting distrust towards researchers.
Subject O4 consumes contaminated water at T = 128s. " "
Subject P4 refuses to consume contaminated water.
Subject R4 consumes contaminated water at T = 148s, ceasing movement at T = 153s.
Subject S4 " " T = 157s, " " T = 163s.
Subject T4 " " T = 160s, " " T = 165s.
T
Subject U4 " " T = 173s, " "T = 178s.

Results:
Conditions for Substance A's properties are not exclusive to any specific species, affecting species of the Actinopterygii, Aves, Mammalia and Reptilia classes and by extension, the Osteichthyes and Tetrapoda superclasses, respectively. This strongly suggests that the properties are triggered when Substance A is consumed by any Chordate.

Future tests could investigate whether Substance A affects phyla other than chordates, such as arthropods, molluscs, platyhelminths, etc. Additional tests could explore whether species belonging to other kingdoms (Bacteria, Archaea, Protozoa, Chromista, Plantae, Fungi Monera, Protista, Fungi and Plantae, as well as potentially viruses) are capable of triggering Substance A's anomalous properties.

Subjects N4, O4, P4 terminated.

Test 5: Human consumption
Purpose: To investigate how Substance A reacts to contact and manipulation by human subject/s (Homo Sapiens).
Hypothesis: As per the results of Test 4, it is expected that consumption of Substance A by a human subject will result in the immediate death of said subject.

Resources:
- 20 human subjects (Various D-Class, Subjects A5 through T5).
- 40mL Substance A.
- 1 5mL syringe.

Method:
Subjects A5 through T5 instructed to consume 2mL of Substance A each. Subjects informed that doing so would result in immediate release back into general populace (in order to ensure willingness in consumption of Substance A). Subject each observed for five minutes.

Observations:
All Subjects consume Substance A, then cease movement after five seconds. Subjects remains rigid for the remainder of observation period, declared deceased.

Results:
Substance A confirmed to affect Homo Sapiens when consumed. Further testing could explore whether varying quantities of Substance A have alternating effects.

Test 6: Human consumption (2)
Purpose: To investigate whether varying quantities of Substance A elicit varying anomalous properties or results.
Hypothesis: Comparing the results of all previous tests, it is expected that varying the quantity of Substance A will have no effect on its anomalous properties.

Resources:
- 40 human subjects (Various D-Class, 1A6 through to 2N6).
- 410ml Substance A.
- 1 1mL Syringe.
- 1 5mL Syringe.
- 1 10mL Syringe.

Method:
Each subject instructed to consume a volume of Substance A, increasing by 0.5mL for each successive subject and measured using the provided syringes (e.g. Subject A6 consumes 0.5mL of Substance A, Subject B6 consumes 1mL of Substance A, etc.). Subjects informed that doing so would result in immediate release back into general populace (to ensure willingness in consumption of Substance A). Subjects then observed for three minutes each.

Observations:
Subjects 1D6, 1H6, 1J6, 1K6, 1Q6, 1U6, 1Z6 and 2A6 through 2F6 consume their quantities of Substance A, but do not trigger its anomalous properties. All report Substance A to have an intense bitter taste, and cite distrust of the researcher's behaviour.
All other subjects consume Substance A and cease movement after approx. 5 seconds. All declared deceased at end of observation period.

Results:
Results suggest that consuming Substance A in certain volumes prevents its anomalous properties from manifesting; however, this is likely attributable to unwillingness to consume Substance A.

Subjects 1D6, 1H6, 1J6, 1K6, 1Q6, 1U6, 1Z6 and 2A6 through 2F6 terminated.

Autopsy of deceased subjects consistent with autopsy results from previous tests. Autopsy of Subjects 1D6, 1H6, 1J6, 1K6, 1Q6, 1U6, 1Z6 and 2A6 through 2F6 located appropriate volumes of Substance A in the upper digestive system; Substance A recollected for reuse.

Test 7: Human consumption (3)
Purpose: To re-investigate whether varying quantities of Substance A elicit varying anomalous properties or results.
Hypothesis: As Test 6.

Resources:
- 80 human subjects (Various D-class, Subjects 1A7 through 4B7.)
- 1620mL Substance A. (Additional 5L of Substance A provided by examiner.)
- 1 10mL syringe.
- 1 20mL syringe.
- 1 40mL syringe.

Method:
As Test 6.

Observations:
Subjects 1D7, 1F7, 1G7, 2C7 through to 2J7, 3B7, 3H7 and 3Z7 through 4B7 were unaffected by Substance A. All other subjects died five seconds after consuming Substance A.

Results:
Subjects 1D7, 1F7, 1G7, 2C7 through to 2J7, 3B7, 3H7 and 3Z7 through 4B7 terminated.
Remainder of results suggest consuming specific volumes of Substance A does not negate its effects.
Autopsy results consistent with Test 6. Substance A recollected from Subjects 1D7, 1F7, 1G7, 2C7 through to 2J7, 3B7, 3H7 and 3Z7 through 4B7.

Test 8: Abnormal application
Purpose: To determine whether Substance A exhibits abnormal properties when applied abnormally.
Hypothesis: Substance A is not expected to show any reaction to abnormal use.

Resources:
- 100mL Substance A.
- 100 human subjects (various D-class, Subject 1A8 through 4V8).
- 1 1mL syringe.
- 1 hypodermic needle.
- 1 standard-issue vaporizer.

Method:
1mL of Substance A is applied to an exposed section of skin on Subjects 1A8 through to 1Y8. Subjects 1A8 through 1F8 apply to reverse of left hand; Subjects 1G8 through to 1L8 apply to left side of neck; Subject 1M8 through 1R8 apply to lower back; Subject 1S8 through 1X8 applies to lower right thigh. Subject 1Y8 apply evenly to all four locations. Subjects monitored for three minutes.
1mL of Substance A injected via hypodermic needle & syringe into right arm of Subjects 1Z8 through to 2X8. Subjects 1Z8 through 2E8 inject intradermally; Subjects 2F8 through 2K8, intravenous; Subjects 2L8 through 2Q8, subcutaneous; Subjects 2R8 through 2W8, intramuscular. Subject 2X8 injects evenly in all four manners. Subjects monitored for three minutes.
1mL of Substance A is inhaled by Subjects 2Y8 through 3W8 by use of a vaporizer. Subjects monitored for three minutes.
Subjects 3X8 through 4V8 ingest 1mL of Substance A each. Subjects monitored for thirty seconds.

Observations:
Subjects 1A8 through 1Y8 show no abnormalities for period of observation; Substance A remains present at site of application.
Subjects 1Z8 through 2X8 report discomfort attributed to the injection, showing no abnormalities for period of observation.
Subjects 2Y8 through 3W8 report mist smells of custard and fresh bread. Subjects 3C8, 3K8 and 3V8 observed to swallow during exposure, then cease movement after five seconds; declared dead at end of test.
Subjects 3X8 through 4V8 cease movement five seconds after ingesting Substance A, all declared deceased.

Results:
Substance A confirmed to only react when ingested. Death of Subjects 3C8, 3K8 and 3V8 attributed to swallowing of residual Substance A present within the oral cavities.

All surviving subjects terminated.

Test 9
Purpose: To determine whether subjects previously unaffected by Substance A can be affected by consumption of the substance in future.
Hypothesis: As the properties of Substance A only require willingness to activate, it is expected that if previously unwilling subjects were to consume Substance A willingly, the properties would activate.

Resources:
- Subjects A2, B3, D3, (Male albino laboratory mouse).
- 7 human subjects (various D-class, Subjects D2, F3 and A9 through E9).
- 20mL Substance A.
- 1 carrot.

Method:
Three sections of carrot, each coated in 2mL of Substance A, are fed to Subjects A2, B3 & D3. Subjects A2, B3, D3 & A9 through E9 consume 2mL of Substance A each. Subjects A2, B3 & D3 reminded of survival of Tests 2 & 3 to ensure willingness to consume Substance A. Subjects monitored for three minutes.

Observations:
Subjects A2, B3, D3 & A9 through E9 consume Substance A and cease movement 5 seconds later.

Results:
Substance A confirmed to be capable of affecting previously unwilling subjects.

Test 10
Purpose: To ensure Substance A's anomalous properties are still triggered by consumption by Homo sapiens.
Hypothesis: There is currently no evidence to suggest Substance A's properties would abruptly cease functionality.

Resources:
- 200 human subjects (various D-classes, Subjects 1A10 through 8R10).
- 400mL Substance A.

Method:
Subjects instructed to consume 2mL of Substance A each.

Observations:
Subjects 1A10 through 8R10 consume Substance A, cease movement, declared deceased.

Results:
Test produced no meaningful data. Substance A confirmed to still affect Homo sapiens, as expected.

Test 11
Purpose: To ensure Substance A still retains its anomalous properties.
Hypothesis: Despite in excess of ten hours elapsing since testing began, there is no evidence to suggest Substance A's anomalous properties are temporary in any way.

Resources:
- 400 human subjects (various D-classes, Subject 1A11 through 16J11).
- 800mL Substance A.

Method:
Subjects 1A11 through to 16J11 consume 2mL of Substance A each.

Observations:
Multiple Subjects fail to trigger Substance A's anomalous properties, exhibiting distrust towards researchers. All other subjects trigger its anomalous effects.

Results:
Surviving Subjects terminated.

Test had no investigative value. No meaningful data obtained.

Test 12: Compulsion acknowledgement
Purpose: To determine whether Substance A exhibits an anomalous compulsion affect upon researchers utilising it for testing, specifically in regard to the use of human test subjects.
Hypothesis: It does.

Resources:
- Sarah McByrne (FID: B139-L14Y-2JQ4, Subject Prime-1).
- Rodney Aran (FID: C01F-VNHX-T5SV, Subject Prime-2).
- 800 800 800 800 800 500 800 800 50 human subjects (Various D-class, Subject 1A12 through to 2X12).
- 52mL Substance A
- 1 1mL syringe.

Method:
Subjects 1A12 through 2X12 encouraged to consume 1mL of Substance A each, compliance induced through misinformation. Subjects Prime-1 & Prime-2 monitored, then consume 1mL Substance A each.

Observations:
Subjects 1A12 through 2X12 consume Substance A, most remain functional, citing disbelief at Subjects Prime-1 and Prime-2's erratic insistence at compliance. Subjects Prime-1 and Prime-2 terminate all such subjects, citing 'tampering with results'. Subjects Prime-1 and Prime-2 do not outwardly exhibit remorse for their actions, and continue with the test.

Subject Prime-1 attempts to convince Subject Prime-2 to consume Substance A; Subject Prime-2 verbally accepts, but attempts to requisition further D-Class subjects for future tests. Subject Prime-2 terminated by Subject Prime-1.

Subject Prime-1 consumes 1mL of Substance A. Anomalous properties fail to manifest due to unwillingness. Intense bitter taste confirmed by Subject Prime-1.

Results: Subjects 1A12 through 2X12 show consistent results with previous tests. Autopsy results consistent with previous tests.

Subject Prime-1 and Prime-2 confirmed to be under the effects of a previously undiscovered property of Substance A that induces a compulsion to feed Substance A to as many Homo Sapiens as possible under the pretence of testing. Subject Prime-2 terminated by request to prevent Subject Prime-1 from further fulfilling this compulsion (Subject Prime-1 does not have sufficient clearance to request D-class subjects).

Future tests strongly encouraged to determine the source of this anomalous property.

Test 13
Purpose:
To investigate whether Substance A's anomalous property can be forcefully initiated despite unwillingness.
To determine whether overconsumption of Substance A can negate the anomalous compulsion property discovered in Test 12.
To prevent further unnecessary loss of life, as caused by Subject Prime-1 under the effects of the compulsion property discovered in Test 12.
To warn future personnel undergoing this examination to avoid accidentally initiating Substance A's compulsion property.

Hypothesis:
The results of previous tests strongly suggest that consumption of Substance A in any quantity while doing so unwillingly will fail to initiate, or terminate, its properties.
Due to the unwillingness of Subject Prime-1, it is believed this test will fail. Subject Prime-1 must attempt it nonetheless.
Subject Prime-1's current mental condition will result in an ensurance that further loss of life does not occur beyond what is necessary.

Resources:
- Subject Prime-1 (Sarah McByrne).
- Approx. 3.5L Substance A.
Method:
Subject Prime-1 consumes all available Substance A.
Results:


"A Tale Of Petty Revenge" or, "Dr. Cimmerian microwaves a slice of unwrapped Kraft American Singles in the Site-19 break room for two minutes"

10:26 AM

A mousy looking woman opened the door to the waiting room. She adjusted her glasses with one hand and held her clipboard up with another, quickly reading the name of the next case.
"Mister Cimmerian? The Human Resources Case-Resolution Committee will see you now."
A somewhat pudgy man still bearing scars of a fire long-passed stood up, sneering.
"That's Doctor Cimmerian, thank you." His slightly high-pitched and unmistakenly Southern drawl corrected her with a tone of indignance.
"Yes, sorry Doctor Cimmerian." the woman rolled her eyes, marking off the name on her clipboard before holding the door open for him. She lead him down a tight, nearly featureless corridor down to the last door on the left, which she once more held open for him. Once Cimmerian had entered, she shut the door gently and grimaced.
"What a dick."

10:32 AM

Cimmerian stepped into the room as the door shut behind him. A single fluorescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminated a simple chair and desk further ahead, upon which a bottle of water had recently been placed. A few meters away from the empty desk was a giant monitor, displaying a figure obscured in shadows. Despite the presence of factors which would intimidate a sane person, Cimmerian casually strolled up to the chair and took a seat.
"Hey guys. Long time no see! When was the last time I was here? During that whole 650,000 email fiasco? I like what you've done with the place. The water is a nice touch." As he spoke, Cimmerian worked on opening the bottle before him. Once the cap came loose, he casually tossed it behind him and swallowed the contents of the bottle in a long gulp, then gasped.
"Thank goodness, I was parched."
The figure in the monitor was silent for a moment. Though their face was not visible, they visibly brought their palm to their forehead at the sight of Cimmerian loudly crumbling the empty plastic bottle.
"Hello, Jeremiah Cimmerian." - the figure spoke in a distorted voice. "The Human Resources Committee has received several complaints regarding your behavior recently. After receiving an overwhelming number of repor-"
"Didn't you bring that up from like, ten to fifty or something?" Cimmerian interrupted, leaning back on his chair.
"Yes, Doctor Cimmerian. You were present for that ruling. Now, as I was saying, we received an overwhelming number of reports regarding your behavior regarding the Site's Break Room. Normally we would-"
"What the hell did I do?" he interrupted again.
"Cimmerian, just let me finish! Stop interrupting, damn it."
"Doctor Cimmerian!"
The room was silent for a moment before the mysterious figure let out a loud, long sigh.
"Anyway… We received multiple complaints about you using the break room's microwave to, uh, microwave fish. Is this correct?"
"Why yes. I microwave my tuna sandwiches for a whole minute right as lunch starts. I like being first so I don't get held up in line."
Though the voice distorter would mask it, the HR representative was disgusted and nearly gagged. After regaining their composure, the speaker cleared their throat and shook their head before continuing.
"I'm sure you're aware this creates a… less than pleasant odor, correct?"
"Like hell I am. That's why I don't microwave it in my personal office. One time my sister microwaved her tuna when we were growing up. The whole damn trailer stank to high hell for almost a year."
"Then why would you do this once daily in an area of mass concentration?"
"I just told you why. I don't want my damn office reeking of fish."
"Do you not realize that you are creating an unfavorable and negative environment in the workspace, fostering poor relationships with your coworkers? Do you not see how this offensive odor can cause problems for your peers with sensitive noses?"
"It ain't my fault that Kain's a dog. And besides, it's not like they have to sit in the break room and eat. There's plenty of places to go to. If I heat my lunch in my office, I gotta deal with that stink all day."
"It's the considerate thing to do."
"And?"
"It's plain rude."
"But not against any rules."
The figure got up and moved out of frame, leaving Cimmerian alone for a brief moment. Their sounds of exasperation were barely understandable through the microphone's distortion, but Cimmerian didn't much care. He was more concentrated on checking his watch.
"Listen, I gotta go. I have a meeting in about fifteen minutes in Wing 34-B, and I shouldn't be late. I'm just gonna get up and go, okay? You can email me or something if you need me to show back up or whatever. Peace out."
With that, Cimmerian pushed his chair back and exited the room, leaving the shadowy figure on the display to grumble.

01:04 PM

Doctor Cimmerian stepped into the break room, his cold tuna sandwich in hand. The lunch break wouldn't start for another six minutes, but he was resilient in getting in his meal early. He approached the good old reliable microwave but spotted something amiss.
A sticky note was placed on the screen, reading 'Please review new microwave use rules.' His eyes darted up above to a large laminated sign. Everything seemed to be about the same, save for one new addition. There it was, directly under the latest reason Bright was exempt from using the appliance; 'All employees are asked to not microwave any form of fish or seafood. This rule will be thoroughly enforced.'
Cimmerian grumbled, looking at the neatly wrapped sandwich in his hand. What he had been doing was perfectly within the rules, why change things now? He should have the right to eat his sandwich as he pleased.
Discontent with the situation, he approached the fridge in search of a soda to liberate as his. Where he usually would find an abandoned drink he instead found an open pack of Kraft American Singles. He fished one out of the fridge and looked it over, then glanced to the microwave.
He had an idea.
Pulling up a chair to the counter on which the microwave rested, Cimmerian momentarily set down his sandwich and got to work unwrapping the yellow dairy square. Once the plastic had been undone, he opened the microwave and placed the slice as centered as he could on the revolving plate. Before taking a seat once more, he set the timer for two minutes and took a seat.
As the heavily processed dairy began to bubble and scorch, Cimmerian unwrapped his cold tuna sandwich and took a bite. There was nothing in the rules against this.


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Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts
Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts.
Explicit depiction of sexual acts.
Features non-consensual sexual acts.
Depiction of severe mistreatment of children
Depiction of self-harm
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PeppersGhost

Pounded in the Butt by the Screaming Gristle Beacon from Site-Everything by PeppersGhost

More by this author

IMPORTANT NOTE

This short story was coauthored by the Botnik predictive keyboard app back in the days when computer-generated literature was little more than a clumsy novelty. Every tale posted on the SCP wiki from its inception through 2018 was fed into the algorithm, along with the works of erotic gay fantasy author Chuck Tingle. These are the results.

I felt every muscle in my bedroom-places transcend reality as my favorite lab thaumotologists tucked their fat germs into the darkness of my death-tailored man chamber.
"C'mon!" chuckles the attractive Foundation figure standing naked under himself. "Just give us that heavenly whistling!"
"I never end until everyone else rapidly arranges their own shame gatherings to talk about my sweet length of pleasure weight!" I shout back.
Eventually we realized that we should be doing something about that incident with the uncountable containment breaches, so we didn't. Fifteen days later the others were struggling to keep up their rapid activities and I couldn't say I was getting too comfortable, what with all the imposing Foundation agents already hanging encouraging letters from the containment room ceiling. I just stood up and flipped through the door, hissing sounds of blackened laughter.
"I don't like forever scrambling up the staircase of pleasure! I need my butthole open wide as the world, but not one person has breached containment of my heart!"
Suddenly a deep voice crackled out across the landscape.
"I'll fucking tell you what," the voice yelled, "clearly finding a beautiful pink Juan is not going to be a fucking basket of awesome! You have to get over your fear of pain and grab your issues together in a fucked up dildo of proper workplace etiquette!"
"But what value does decades of research have if my balls throb with deafening rage?" I apologize.
"Just throw out your completely stupid lizard fiction and it will work out, my gay twink human twink. Someone who I've tasted countless miles of will help feed the butt in your heart."
Light wrinkled over the cloud edge, a perfect relief after all this murdered communion we had. There was movement towards the facility vans. A flash of white panty parameters. A moment of erotic gay giddiness ejects from my eyes. It's Moloch the butt-pounding noisekeeper of oldest magic, before my very tips!
"Morning, brother lord!" he said soothingly. "We've got some shit to do."
Finally.
Soon we were adhering to each other like a snowball on a tombstone. He unfurls his muscular ears as he savors the one orange I must have found. Only Moloch time here.
"That's not the only thing I've destroyed," he murmurs, pointing at someone with enough brains to get laid. "Fuck security, put your enormous massive dick cock into overdrive and start filling that science shark with some smooth smile food."
"A shark agenda?" I blurt. "You already discovered my life will be nothing but red gay lifestyle with this!"
And that was how friendship blossomed right upon this handsome world of trouble.
When the Foundation eventually stops us, Dr. Barclay is going to punch my bones off.


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NAME OF TALE You do not recognise the cabin by the water

New York, 2019.
Winston Carter stood before his window and swirled his glass.
He was on the top floor of a very tall building. His window stretched from floor to ceiling, making his room seamlessly flow into the air and city around it. Below, the cars crawled like ants across the streets. The people scurrying like their aphid livestock, uncertain and frail. The sky was covered in winter clouds. Winston took a large sip.
The room was grey. His suit was grey. The walls, floor and carpet were grey. A single abstract painting hung on the opposite side of the room; it meant nothing to Winston except the absence of meaning. His office was large, empty, marked only by a brown desk facing away from the window. It was a room which oozed intimidation.
He was a man of few and tasteful interests. Swarms of underlings would pass through those doors every day, hoping for favour or promotion. He would look at them. He would consider them, the shape of their words and the structure of their mind, and make decisions.
Every day he rose, pushed back the blankets, blinked, and began to move. His wife would keep sleeping, as thin light poured through the curtains. She had her own life. He would arrive at work. He would address his secretary and underlings in a gravelly, deep tone; a friendly one, that put people at a sort of ease, but which never undermined his authority.
How many faces does a man need? His staff knew one face. His wife knew another. His mistress, perhaps, knew the truest one, but are one's darkest parts more true merely because they're dark? His child knew him as a smiling face who brought presents, and who would occasionally ruffle his hair.
Everything existed in a time of perfect order. His tower seemed to rise, yearly, higher and higher. It would look down at the others. And he stood at the top of it, staring down, always staring down.
There was one thing, however, which existed outside of this clean-cut existence. A guilty pleasure. He liked to read the crackpot letters. Every company, every CEO got them- the letters from conspiracy theorists, or alien abductees, or socialists. His staff would comb through them, select the cream of the crop, and send them up to him to have a laugh at.
He sat down, and grabbed a couple from his desk. They were hilarious. Take this one, for instance-

-and they're coming for us. i know i sound mad but the liazards are COMING FOR US and we have to do something. youre the last one whos not oen of them i know it i know it and your have to help us stop them before they get to the predient-

Or this one:

-for when you and your kind will fall. Your abuses, your harmful attacks on the working classes will not stand. You are a monster, and those you stamp on for the sake of your own greed will fall. Capital should not rest in the hands of the-

And then there was this one:

You do not recognise the bodies in the water.

Winston frowned. Strange. Why was this one blank? Maybe his secretary had inserted a piece of printer paper by mistake. He shrugged, and threw it into a bin.
He returned to his work. A clock beat out the time, ticking, ticking, ticking, an endless tattoo of infernal regularity. Behind it lay a wall, thick and full of the lumpen sod of concrete.

California, 1978
"…and that's why Reagan's just not going to be the right choice. I don't like Carter- the other Carter, I mean-" he paused for laughter "-any more than you do, but if we're ever going to bring about socialism, it's not going to be on the backs of a guy who makes capitalism seem palatable."
Win Carter (he insisted on Win to everyone) smiled at the encouraging nods he recieved from others. He was relaxed, and happy. It was another night at Stone's place; they'd been swapping venues for all through the summer, a ready supply of semi-illicit booze passing through the dwellings of the great and the good.
Stone's house was a flat, modernist design, perfectly positioned at the edge of a cliff-face. His balcony was a massive great thing, stretching out on stilts over the ocean. Stone threw the best parties. It was a wonderful place to relax. A great red sun was setting over the ocean, and the light reflected up at the house.
God, it was good to be alive.
He was stretched out on a lounger, in a little circle of the friends he'd made in the last couple of years. They all looked at him in awe. Win Carter, valedictorian, law student at Chicago, the brightest mind among them. He secretly knew that he wasn't, of course- Simon Kells over there was a genius physicist, and Mary King knew twice as much about the legal system than he'd ever know- but he was charismatic, and ardent, and managed to temper his radicalism with realism. Nobody had to know about what went on behind his eyes. Nobody did.
He took another puff of the joint, and passed it to the guy on his left. He didn't know him; he was tall, dark haired, a slightly mocking smile over dark skin. Didn't look as impressed as the others. Win frowned, ever so slightly.
"Hey, man, don't think we've met before."
The dark-haired man smiled. "I'm Sam. Sam Cruz. Good to meet you."
"Yeah, and, uh, who do you know here, man?"
"He's with me", piped up Simon Kells. "Friend of mine from Northwestern, majoring in Chem like me."
"Ah, well-"
"I agree with you, by the way." Sam's voice was warm and deep; it gave a natural substance to everything he said. "You're absolutely right- we have to suck it up and do something unpleasant sometimes. It was well put."
Win smiled, and relaxed. This guy seemed OK. "So what do you think about what's going down in Iran…?"
The setting sun gradually lowered and lowered until it disappeared beneath the sealine. The others gradually drifted off, dancing and partying inside as the temperature began to dip, but many still hung around the balcony, chatting and making out. Sam and Win kept talking long into the night, a deep and fascinated conversation.
Sam was clearly a better mind than him. He had read more, seen more, knew people. He was a little vague about stuff, but that was OK; Win had always been a bit more theoretical than practical with his politics. Simon was the only one who was left; dozing off on his lounger next to them. Simon was his friend- his best friend, if he was honest. They'd known one another for years… he forgot how they met. School, was it? He didn't know. It didn't matter.
"Man, this is great. It's good to talk so someone who really gets it, you know? I like Simon, and the rest of them, but I'm never sure if they quite understand what I'm getting at.
"Yeah". A nervous grin was playing on Sam's face. The light of the moon was rippling on the water. It was a strange colour. To Win, it looked almost black.
"There's just one thing, Win- just something I want to check."
"Uh, what's that?"
"Do you recognise the bodies in the water?"
Win frowned. "I, uh… I don't understand what you mean."
He could see Sam visibly relaxing; his smile becoming wider, more genuine. "No", he said. "And you never will."
Strong arms grabbed him from behind, pinning him down. Kells' arms. He struggled, but he couldn't yell out; a sickly rag had been shoved over his mouth, blurring his vision and forcing his eyes shut. The last thing he saw was Sam reaching into his pocket and taking out two tiny capsules, but his eyelids were so heavy and Kells' arms so strong and all he wanted to do was slee-

New York, 2019
The rain was grey. It battered against the windows, lashing it with strange currents. A fleet of umbrellas swarmed below, tiny spheres moving towards and away from one another, following their own strange pathways. It reminded Winston of that British mathematician's experiment- the Game of Life, or something. Spiralling in formal but unpredictable patterns, all little dots on a screen.
Winston swivelled the chair back. Lots to do. Important work. He picked up the memo on the top of the pile and read:

Just wanted to check something with you real quick: you do not recognise the bodies in the water.
Thanks.
S.C.

Winston frowned. S.C…. why was that familiar? Someone he'd met in his student days? No… was it some place in ███████? He didn't remember. It was so long ago.
God, those were halcyon days. He, Simon, Mary… but Simon had killed himself last year, and Mary had married some finance dunce in Washington. He didn't remember much of why they were halcyon days, but his earlier years had never come to him very well. They weren't important.
This was strange. Why had this person given him this paper? It didn't make any sense. What did he want to check? A colon, a blank page, and then a "thanks."
Where did he know that name from? Was it high school? He hadn't thought about high school in so long, that he-
…Where had he gone to high school?
Winston sat back in his chair. He couldn't remember anything. He remembered elementary and middle school. He remembered being excited about going to high school, the local high school. It was called- was called-
Nothing.
Three years of his life and he couldn't remember it.
He stared again at the memo. Something about it was wrong.
The rain continued to pour outside. Pitter-patter-pitter-patter. It was such an ordinary, homely sound, while he was warm inside. He didn't want to go outside.
He pressed a button on the intercom.
"Dolores? Listen, could you get me the, er, I think it was the brown box with the black label. Should be in the storage cupboard at the end of the corridor. Thanks.
He sat back, as he heard Dolores' footsteps patting past his door. He looked at the rain. The water slipped, slided, obscuring the bodies walking below. What was wrong with him? His head was splitting open.
He'd arose, as normal. He'd eaten a bowl of shredded wheat. He'd dressed, kissed his wife, said goodbye to his son. His driver had taken him from his immense driveway, and they'd slid through the streets. They were angular, functional, useful. He liked that. A small part of him, buried deep within, had ticked slightly upwards.
Nothing had changed, and yet he felt that everything had changed. He stared outside. The sound of a plane roared, distantly, into his ear. It grated. It never usually grated.
There was something about the water. Something about… a cabin…

Northwest Territories, 1987
The view was gorgeous. It was full of luscious greys and deep greens. Northern Canada was a wild and reckless place to be hiking, but the two of them were old hands at the pasttime. They'd been friends since childhood and had been hiking together for the better part of a decade, and they loved it.
Winston (sometimes Win, but only to his friends) crested the top of the hill, and sat down. He was a successful man; still youthful, bright, friendly. He was a junior partner at a law firm in Chicago, but he was considering a move to New York. His was a figure which exuded solidity, intelligence, confidence. Nobody asked about whether his mind worked in the same way.
His companion was different; smaller, quieter, twitchier. He was by far the most intelligent of the two, but you wouldn't think that by looking at him, or by hearing his uncertain speeches. Winston had never quite been able to understand what it was Simon Kells did, except that his income was great and that he was surprisingly young for his position. A "director" of some kind- but directing what?
It didn't matter. They rarely discussed work. Last week, Winston had helped dissolve a sub-company with over 200 employees for a major corporation. He'd had to sit there, smiling, while a man who'd lost his pension ranted at him. Did it eat him up inside? He didn't know. He didn't know what that looked like. But he was definitely getting more practised at his smile. More numbed to it, too. He didn't want to discuss it.
"It's a mighty fine view all right, Simon." Below the mountain was an enormous lake, stretching out over the tundra. Its glisten reminded Winston of his youth, but he didn't quite know why.
"It's a good one. I'm sorry I couldn't see you for longer, Win- got to fly to Greenland. New project that, uh, work is setting up."
Winston frowned. What could Kells possibly— no, no, he wasn't thinking about that today. They'd just hiked for miles on end to get here; this was a day for relaxing. Pleasantness.
But…
"Ah, don't worry about it, Simon. These things happen. Listen. There's something I want to talk to you about."
Simon looked up, mildly, staring at Winston. Winston couldn't see his expression. He kept looking at the lake.
"Are you alright, Winston? Everything OK at home?" The water continued to ripple, gently.
"I've been doing some digging. Some… stuff in old files, that isn't where it should be. I think something might be…"
"Oh, you worry too much. You've always been a worrier." Simon was relaxed, his hands behind his head. Groves of trees waved all around.
Nobody came around here. It was remote; it had taken them hours to hike from the village, but it was worth it. The silver lake, the trees, the-
"Where did I go to high school, Simon?"
Simon bolted upright. He began to move a hand towards his pocket, but Winston didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on the lake. It was a pity he'd never learnt to swim.
"I can't remember. The name keeps going away. I keep trying to remember… I called up my mother. She doesn't know, either. I don't remember anything, except… I think there was a lake. Somewhere. But I don't-"
Winston was aware of Simon holding something. He turned, and saw a small rubber instrument in Simon's hand. It was pointed at him, and gave off a gentle hum.
"Why can't you just forget? This is the third time. I can't protect you forever, Winston. My influence has limits."
"What are-"
The lake rippled. It was not the same lake, and was not in the same country, but it was a lake. Its shape, construction, features left behind a ripple of all other lakes. A shared form, each reminding the others of something else.
Did anyone else survive?

New York, 2019
Nothing. There was nothing. Three days had passed, and not one bit of information.
He'd checked his past, his present, company documents, all the rest of it. Nobody knew where he had gone to high school. Elementary school, middle school, college- but nothing else. Just a hole, which nobody thought it worth commenting upon.
The rain had stopped, finally. The city was sodden. It was evening, and the sky was dark. The people and their cars shined up at him, illuminated by the lights of shop windows and mobile phones. A place alive, reaching, chaotic. His light was a tinny little thing, shining from a penthouse office and obscured by those below.
He sat back in his chair. He swilled his whisky. It was the same glass; nobody had taken it away. Where was Dolor- oh. It was Saturday.
He sighed. Stubble was growing under his chin. He'd told his wife he was out of town, at a conference; he'd told his mistress that he had to be with his wife but it's OK, baby, it's fine, I'll come see you Monday, OK?
Lying was so easy. It was all a matter of people management. The truth was just another reality, another idea planted in the brain.
A small white envelope was lying on his desk. He hadn't seen it before. He picked it up and opened it.
There was a small pill bottle, with two pills in; a green one, and a blue one. And a small note was wrapped around it.

Dear Winston,
Today is the day of my retirement. And I've done something very wrong indeed. Would you like to hear about it?
You've been going through the cycle again. Kells told me, before he died, that he'd been seeing the signs. He didn't want his friend to be taken in, so we cooked up our own arrangement. He was motivated by concern, but I wasn't. Termination just wasn't enough for me.
There was a cabin, by the water. Don't you remember? You couldn't swim. You hid in there, while they all went in. You were given life because of your deficiencies. And tell me, Winston, what do you have to show for it? What are you? What exists within your mind?
I see nothing.
If you want to remember, forever, take the green pill. It'll show you what we took.
S.C.

He didn't know who S.C. was. Who else had known Kells? Someone at his work, maybe… that's where they said he did it. Right through the eye.
He looked at the pills. They could mean anything. They could kill him. And did he really need to know?
He tapped the green pill onto his hand. No water. Whisky would do- bottle was almost dry, but pour, pour, pour, that's right. That was right. Shouldn't take pills with alcohol, but he didn't care. Maybe some rules were made to be broken.
He swallowed. He waited.
Nothing happened for a good long minute. He began to worry. What had he taken? Why the hell had he done tha-

YOU DO NOT RECOGNISE THE BODIES IN THE WATER

He shot back, almost hitting his window. Scrawled on every surface, on his desk, walls, window, on his face, on his hands, the door, the-

YOU DO NOT RECOGNISE THE BODIES IN THE WATER YOU DO NOT RECOGNISE THE CABIN BY THE WATER YOU NEVER WENT TO THE LAKE

It was in his head. All the memories. Birchwood High- how did he forget Birchwood High? And the- the field trip-

THERE IS NO LAKE IN ████████ COUNTY YOU NEVER WENT TO THE LAKE YOU DO NOT RECOGNISE THE BODIES IN THE WATER YOU DO NOT RECOGNISE THE CABIN BY THE WATER

Winston Carter collapsed, convulsing, on the floor. The cleaners had all gone home. They'd find him, on Monday morning, gibbering out of his mind. He'd keep saying the same thing, over and over and over again.
"Go back to the lake."


O5-4 tapped on the screen. She was greeted by the panicked face of Captain Jean-Baptiste Cousteau of Site-45, as emergency lights flashed and illuminated the blood and dust covering him.
"We received the transmission. Any new updates?"
Cousteau was breathing heavily. "Yes, ma'am. The explosions in A and C Blocks were merely a diversion. Site security was able to capture or kill the majority of the invaders there, but the Insurgency was really after one thing: SCP-2501."
O5-4 allowed herself a silent chuckle.
"Of course. My representative should arrive shortly. Keep me updated."

The helicopter landed on 45's offshore rig seven minutes later, and a black-haired woman and two flanking, helmeted agents exited. One agent unloaded a large case from the helicopter and opened it, setting up the contraption inside. The remaining one and the woman briskly walked towards the elevator shaft, and were greeted by Captain Cousteau.
"I'm Agent Petra Marquez." She motioned towards her companion. "And Jax." She squeezed her wrist, and an implant inside it connected to the Site systems. "Straight from the top."
Captain Cousteau nodded. "Does the Black Moon howl?"
"Yes, when its prey is asleep."
The trio entered the elevator. Cousteau looked up at the frighteningly tall Jax, who had neither spoken to Cousteau nor convinced him he wasn't simply a robot. Then to Petra. "He doesn't say much, does he?"
"Spare me the small talk. I've been briefed on the situation already. If it were my job, I'd be grilling you all on how exactly Insurgency moles managed to get in here the long way and steal one of the most valuable items in this facility." She tapped her foot. "That's the Director of Internal Security's job; he'll be here in an hour."
The elevator reached the bottom, and the doors opened. Cousteau and Jax exited. Petra pressed her wrist against a console in the elevator, spoke a passcode, and pricked her finger on a sensor. A green glow emanated as the elevator continued downwards.
After what seemed like hours, the doors opened again to an extensive, concrete cave looking like a mix between a Costco and the warehouse from Raiders of the Lost Ark. F-block was derided as a rumor by the staff. Only the Site Director and a select few even knew this place existed, let alone what it contained. Petra followed the directions the O5 had provided her, and wheeled the sealed item lockbox back to the elevator for her ascent.
The elevator glided smoothly upward as Petra closed her eyes and focused on the mission. The sun should have set by now, thankfully.
Petra walked back out to the helipad, which had been cleared of all personnel, with the box. The second faceless assistant had set up a large, tripod-like apparatus, and was communicating with O5-4. Petra keyed another passcode and gave another pinprick of blood, and the box popped open. Inside was a somewhat familiar, oversized metal gauntlet with wires and pistons covering it.
Noticing her companion's surprise, Petra spoke. "Yep. 2501 is actually part of a set." She placed her arm inside the gauntlet and affixed it to the tripod before flipping the switch to " ВКЛ" and turning the dial to the max.
"2501-ACHAN is in place, O5-4. Ready to receive coordinates."
The tripod received the signal, and moved on its own so that the gauntlet was pointing up into the sky. A blue light flashed, and Petra closed her fist.
Nothing happened.
O5-4 said simply "Objective completed". Satisfied, Petra powered down the gauntlet and the tripod, removed her arm, and placed the gauntlet back in its case. "Put the tripod away and get ready for takeoff. I'll go put this thing back."

The lone Chaos Insurgency operative sat in the space capsule, ready to aim THE CLAW at Earth itself once he received the signal from his superiors. Suddenly, alarms began to blare. A rather large asteroid had materialized out of nowhere and was rapidly closing in. Desperate, he aimed the claw at the approaching celestial body and squeezed.
Nothing happened.
The asteroid crushed the capsule, flew off toward the edge of the Solar System, and Earth was saved once more.

O5-4 sipped her drink. With a tap of her finger, she dispatched Petra to retrieve 2501 from the wreckage upon landfall, and return it to a secure location.
"Rock beats scissors, bitches."


Maria Alekseevna Durova had finally begun to feel at home in their new Leningrad apartment at 17 Luxemburg Prospekt.
She and her husband Stanislav had moved in just over three months ago. After years of living in the Pushkinsky district, Maria needed time to adjust to the new surroundings. She was getting used to stretching her arms without hitting plastered cardboard walls. Every night, she awoke, anticipating the absent tromp of workers' boots, returning from midnight shifts.
The building had once a mansion of a family, fled or expropriated. "Some knyaz," the Housing Committee officer explained without looking up.
The luxurious exterior belied the plain building within. Where a fine crystal chandelier would have hung in the main hall, there was now a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. Patterns on the bare wooden floor indicated where there had been sumptuous carpets. Rooms once devoted to billiards or post-dinner discussions were now subdivided to house three or more families.
There were other downsides as well. Three stories to climb to get to the apartment. Wood for the stoves two floors below the kitchen, down in the basement. Then, of course, the creaking sounds endemic to any old house.
Maria didn't mind, though. She saw the absences as aspirational. Chandeliers and crystal brandy snifters would some day be the common property of all. Until then, well, she could stretch her arms and at least not hit the walls.

Item #: SCP-83184
Object Class: Euclid

The first disappearance at 17 Luxemburg Prospekt came almost without remark.
Maria never gave Vasiliy much thought. A round man with an eternally neutral expression, he was unobtrusive enough to fade into the background as the thousand other minute tasks of life took precedence. They had spoken several times, but never on anything but pleasant banalities. He was at meetings for the kommunalka, but somehow always voted with the majority. A human blur. If it wasn't for his frequent bouts of wheezing coughs, Maria might not ever have thought about him.
It took several days of silence in the building before Maria even noticed his absence. She asked Oksana, of the family downstairs, where Vasiliy was vacationing to. Oksana stared for a moment, then shook her head. Maria understood at once.
Some men from the NKVD or the police or wherever had come and had knocked on Vasiliy's door. They had asked that he come with them just to answer a few questions. He went with them, and now there was no more Vasiliy.
Alive, dead, or otherwise, there was no point in referring their erstwhile neighbor.
Indeed, it was understood by all that referring to or even thinking about him might bring misfortune. The human blur had been replaced with a hole.
A week later, Vasiliy's apartment was cleared out, and a married pensioner couple moved in. There was no discussion of Vasiliy.

Special Containment Procedures: One instance of SCP-83184 is to be held in an outdoor enclosure on Site 287.

It was two weeks later when Katerina vanished from 17 Luxemburg Prospekt.
Maria had been returning home from work at the the telephone station , cursing her apartment for being on the third story. She saw someone knocking on Katerina's door on the second floor. A squat man in a trench coat with his back towards her was all Maria could make out.
The next day, Katerina was absent from the breakfast table. Maria's blood chilled. In the short time she had known Katerina, the two had become fast friends, trading whispered jokes over tea and kasha.
Being close to someone who was disappeared was never good. Sure enough, the other residents in the kitchen gave Maria sideways glances and gave single-word responses to her questions.
That night, Stasik tried to comfort her as they lay in bed. "If she is innocent, I'm sure they'll let her go. And we both know that you've done nothing wrong. You have nothing to worry about," he said.
His voice flitted, like he was trying to think of what to say.

All wild instances of SCP-83184 are to be terminated upon initial containment through incineration by Mobile Task Force Omicron-37 ("Sjigateli Rukopisey").

The next disappearance at 17 Luxemburg came before Katerina's apartment even had a new tenant.
Maria's schedule situated her weekend on Thursdays. The apartment was always empty then except for her and Tatyana, who stayed with her two toddlers. Maria appreciated the relative quiet.
She sat in the living room, trying to memorize her lines for the skit she had been volunteered to perform in. She was to play an unlucky caller, who found her calls repeatedly dropped due to careless office shenanigans.
"Have you no sense?" she mouthed to herself, "I've called three different numbers and none have worked!"
There came a knocking sound from the hall. Three raps. Hard. Official. Maria jumped, then realized it wasn't from her door.
She sat still for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, almost without thought, she stood up and went to the door. She opened it a crack.
Sticking her eye to the opening, Maria could make out the form of a woman wearing a long skirt, standing before the door to the Zhirov's. After a moment, the door opened and Tatyana stepped forward into the open frame.
The two began to converse, too quiet for Maria to make out. Tatyana nodded, then shook her head. The other woman motioned towards the stairs. Tatyana shook her head again, then made to close the door.
Before Tatyana could close the door, something darted out at her from the woman's chest. It appeared for only a moment. Maria heard a soft thump. She couldn't make the shape of it beyond the fact it was the color of a flushed scar.
Tatyana crumpled, a gentle thud on the worn wooden floor. Rather than try to help her, the woman stepped over her prone body.
It was as the woman moved into the apartment that Maria saw the blood on the wall. Bits of brain and bone covered the faded pink of the paisley wallpaper.
She looked down at Tatyana again. It looked as though the top half of her head had been torn off. Grey and crimson mixed with the brown of her hair. The blood had begun to pool around her body.
Maria froze, unsure of what to do. How to process it.
She heard the thumping sound, more muffled this time. Then again a few seconds later. Her thoughts turned towards Tatyana's two young children, Nikolai and Evgeny. She had to bite down on her knuckles to keep from screaming.
A few seconds later, the woman walked out, turning away from Maria, down towards the stairs. Maria paused for a moment. Whatever she had seen, it was not natural.
She had to find out, at least for the sake of Tatyana. Pushing all thought from her mind, she quietly pushed the door open and followed behind.
The woman disappeared down the stairs. Maria followed at a distance, curling herself into the walls of the curved staircase. She cursed silently, still unable to make out the woman's features through the slats of the banister.
Down the second floor, then the first, until the woman was in the landing. It was only then, when the woman walked on flat flooring, that Maria noticed. The woman was not taking steps. It wasn't a matter of not lifting feet - her legs were totally still.
Maria leaned forward for a better view. Surely this couldn't be correct.
The stairs groaned. The woman turned towards Maria. Not startled, but slow and deliberate.
Maria clamped a hand over her mouth and ducked low, hoping she was out of sight. She tried to recite the prayers her grandfather had once taught her, but stumbled over the silent words.
Her breathing was shallow as she waited, staring blankly at the wall and its paisley pattern. Hoping that that woman - that thing - hadn't seen her. She wanted to run, but could feel in her bones that it would be futile.
Maria sat like that for what felt like an hour. Her life felt so tenuous, she almost wasn't sure if she was alive or dead. By the time she looked down, the thing had left. Maria went back to staring at the wall a while longer.

Due to the geometric increase in the demand for sustenance by SCP-83184 instances following repeated feedings, instances are to only be populated with D-Class personnel when cooperation is otherwise impossible to attain.

What to do about the body? Bodies. No. She pushed the thought from her mind.
What would she tell the police? That some creature murdered them with a fleshy spike? That she had simply heard a commotion? She was the only person in the building. They would take her in for sure. Maybe the creature would pay another visit.
She could clean up. Scrub the walls, mop the floors. Wipe down the cribs. She shuddered. No. But what would that do?
Lazar, Maria thought. Tatyana's husband. He was at work. He had a right to know, rather than coming home to… She shuddered.
The komunalka's telephone was down in the kitchen, on the first floor. Maria padded down the stairs. She winced at every creak and groan of the timber.
Had the phone always been this far? The stairs so long? she wondered. After what felt like ages, Maria reached the phone. One eye on the door, she picked up the phone and asked to be connected to Lazar's office at the cement factory.
As the phone on the other end rang, Maria felt her stomach tighten. She tried to will Lazar or someone - anyone - to pick up. Finally, a voice on the other line.
"Hello," came a voice at the other end. Maria gasped with relief when she recognized Lazar's gravely voice.
"Come quickly!" she choked out, "Tatyana… She - You need to see."
"I'll be right over." The line went dead.
Maria sat, staring out the kitchen window. Her left leg moved up and down endlessly.
The clock on above the door clicked and clacked out a rhythm she didn't understand. The house groaned and creaked. She drummed her fingers on the countertop.
What if that thing came by again? She shooed the thought from her mind.
Tea! she thought suddenly. Lazar would need tea when he learned. That's how she could make herself useful. In a moment, she was up, shuffling around the kitchen. Tea brick. Kettle. Water for boiling.
Maria paused. No wood in the stove. She looked. The pile was down to a last few scraps. It wasn't her shift to do it that week. But she needed to be out of the kitchen. She had a dreadful feeling that the thing might be out on the street, waiting for her to show her face.
She hurried to the basement, grabbing a box of matches as she went.
Snatching the candle from its resting place at the top of the stairs, Maria struck a match and lit it as she headed down. The darkness of the cellar seemed to swallow up all light. Each step creaked beneath her weight.
The women of the kommunalka traveled to the basement on almost a daily basis. They searched for wood or jars of pickled beets or rags left from the previous owner. Every spring, they even cleaned it along with the rest of the building. Despite this, the cellar was eternally filled with cobwebs and dust.
Maria cursed whatever architect had designed this building. The basement was many times larger than it needed to be, and the wood pile had been put at the furthest point from the stairs. Each wall sported a half dozen different doors, all leading to nowhere. Katerina had explained that they were all hiding places for mistresses the woman of the house had blocked up one by one.
Still, it was better than hoping that the woman wouldn't return.
It was after at least a minute of walking that Maria heard the sounds. She paused. The faint sound of buzzing. She strained to hear. Like chanting. Or screaming.
She took a few steps, the cement floor cold against her feet. The sound grew louder. It was coming from the wall. No, she realized, one of the doors.
She neared the door. As she drew closer, she could hear it, clear as if it was next to her. The groaning. It sounded like some sort of language, but she couldn't make it out. The voices making the sound were ragged, like a man trying to scream with a worn-out throat. She reached a hand out to turn the handle. She had to see what was within.
A hand came down on her shoulder. Maria screamed and nearly toppled over. The hand steadied her. She looked up to see Lazar. His face was hard.
"Maria," he said, "where is Tatyana?"
It took Maria a moment to return to her surroundings. The chanting was gone. There was only the groaning of the house.
"I- She-," she began.
"I searched up and down," he said, "Where is she?"
"No," Maria said. She began to lead Lazar up the stairs, pulling the large man by his hand. "No, that's n- that's not right."
She took Lazar upstairs, up to the apartment where the bodies were.
The bodies weren't there.
There was no blood. There was no brain or bone or bits of viscera. Just an open door, leading into an immaculate apartment.
"Where. Are. Nikolai and Evgeny?" Lazar said again. The panic was creeping into his voice.
"She was here, I swear, and then someone came to knock."
A look of horror spread across Lazar's face. He nodded. "Please, don't say anything else," he said.
Maria watched as Lazar walked into the apartment, a dazed expression on his face. He shut the door behind him.
That night, Stanislav held Maria in bed. She tried not to think about what she had seen or what she had not seen at all.

Description: SCP-83184 is the collective designation for all surviving members of the Esoteric Church of the Divine Host, a small religious cult founded in 1906 by members of St. Petersburg and Moscow nobility with inclinations towards the occult. Church records indicate 29 potentially uncontained instances of SCP-83184.

The last disappearances at 17 Luxemburg Prospekt happened two weeks later.
The shift at work that day included an additional five hours of "voluntary" labor. When Maria protested, her boss shrugged his shoulders.
"We all have to make sacrifices," he said before returning to his office. He left at a quarter after five.

Interviews with SCP-83184 instances indicate that, despite similarities to and direct connections with Sarkic rituals, the religion practiced by the Esoteric Church had "nothing to do with those sniveling peasants."

By the time she left the building, she had to jog her way to the tram. Even then, she just barely made the last train. The car she sat in was empty, just her and row after row of seats.
Normally, she be would grateful for a reprieve from the drunks and lechers that seemed to swarm the tram after the sun went down. But at least they gave her something to focus on. Now she was alone with her thoughts.
Every glimpse of red curdled into Tatyana's blood. Then, just as quickly, it would be gone.
The soft whir of the motor devolved into the shrieking she had imagined.
Maria tried to think of Stasik holding her close. She tried to think of their child. The images dissolved into viscera and gore, even as she tried to hold on.
So intent was Maria that she almost missed her stop. She only managed to step onto the pavement before the trolley started again.
Through the inky night, she made her way back to the kommunalka, alone with her thoughts.
It was only when she was a few meters away that she saw the windows pulsing a deep red.
The color of a flushed scar.

SCP-83184 instances are manifested as large buildings, primarily dwellings. Exterior and interior walls of SCP-83184 are coated with organic compounds that approximate the qualities of common building materials, including wood, plaster, brick, and tile.

Maria thought of Stasik. He always tried to stay up for her on long nights like these. Every single time, he would drift off to sleep well before she returned and only drowsily greet her when she got into bed.
She began to run as quickly as her legs could carry her.

Due to unknown chemical compounds in its structure, the non-coated portions of SCP-83184 are highly flammable. SCP-83184 instances are immobile, and retain memories and imprints of their previous humanoid lifestyle. Instances do not appear to be able to manually manipulate interiors or exteriors.

Reaching the door, Maria scrambled for the key around her neck. Her pale skin turned crimson, then fading to the black of the night, then crimson once again.
After what felt like an eternity, she managed to fit key and lock and finally finally open the door.
She stopped dead as the now-spongy door swung open.

Despite numerous allegations of kidnapping, devil-worship, human sacrifice, and cannibalism, members were - prior to 1916 - able to escape serious punishment due to high political standing as well as connections with Tsarist secret police (Otdelenie po Okhraneniyu Obshchestvennoi Bezopastnosti i Poryadka, better known as the Okhrana).

The walls and floors of the front hall throbbed in time to the rising and dimming of the lights. A sound, halfway between the house's familiar creaking and a pained wheezing, suffused the air. The air itself felt thick and damp. Maria gagged as she noticed the faint smell of bile.
Her foot sank a few centimeters into the softened floorboards as she set foot inside. A jolt went through her and she instinctively recoiled. Stasik, she thought, Stasik not noticing the smear of jam on his nose last summer. Him making shchi when she became so ill she couldn't rise from bed.
She moved inside, wincing at each soft step.

On November 23rd, 1916, following an extended conflict over influence in the Romanov royal family, the mystic and healer Grigori Rasputin prevailed upon Tsarina Alexandra to purge all members of the Church. Tsarina Alexandra ordered the arrest and summary execution of all known Church members, including founder Pavel Konstantinovich Bruce.

Maria walked through the grand foyer, trying to breath as little of the rotten air as possible.
The police, she thought. The police could come, and - her thoughts stalled out - do something. She made her way to the kitchen.
The pots and pans rattled inside the cabinets as the house shuddered. Maria picked up the phone and put it to her ear as she tried to recall the number for the police.
Screams and jabbering erupted from the earpiece. Maria started. Words in a language she didn't recognize. Spoken by voices she did. Katerina. Tatyana. Vasiliy.
There were others, too. She tried not to recognize them.
She hurled the telephone away from her. The line pulled away from the wall instantly. It landed in the sink, kicking up a splash of dark brown liquid. The sink gurgled.
Maria ran to the foyer. Whatever was in this house, she thought, she needed to save Stasik from it. That was all that could be done.

Through means not presently understood, SCP-83184 is capable of tapping into existing water, electricity, and telephone lines.

There was the urge to call out to him, to hear his voice through the raspy wheeze of the house. Every time, Maria fought it down. In her bones, she felt like the house could hear her. That it would send that thing after her if it knew she was here. Even as the spongy floors muted her footsteps, she still felt the need to tiptoe.
When Maria reached the first floor, she stopped. Her knees almost buckled. The doors to all twenty apartments on the floor were flung wide open, flapping gently with the rhythms of the house.

After a period of dormancy, SCP-83184 instances will begin to consume individuals dwelling within. The consumed individuals are then moved rapidly through the structure of SCP-83184 to a subterranean chamber wherein 40-70% are consumed, with the rest [DATA EXPUNGED], hereafter referred to as SCP-83184-01.

Twenty half-faced Tatyanas blinked into the empty doorways, then vanished. Maria struggled to keep from vomiting.
After a moment, she continued up the stairs.
Stasik, she thought, Stasik.

In initial stages, this consumption will take the place of walls or floors gradually consuming dwellers who are either sick, elderly, or asleep. This method of consumption typically requires at least 15 minutes of stillness from prey.

The second floor held more empty doors.
The bleating of the house increased as the walls heaved at an increasing pace.
Maria pushed all thought from her mind. One final floor.

The skins of all consumed individuals are typically retained and used for further hunting. It is not clear how SCP-83184-01 instances survive the process of flensing.

By the third floor, she was nearly out of breath. Every step required more effort as the ground yielded beneath her feet. She pushed on.
The doors all hung open. She moved towards their room at the end of the hallway. Its was open as well.
She had to be sure.
She checked. She searched. The room was empty.
No Stanislav. No notes. No signs.
Just a large lit glass lamp by the bedside. Stanislav would always leave it on when she came in late.
She turned to leave.
In the doorway stood the creature from Tatyana's apartment.
Maria recognized it. It was Katerina.

Following the creation of at least one SCP-83184-01 instance, SCP-83184 will typically switch to a more active hunting strategy.

Katerina lurched towards Maria. Maria noticed Katerina's feet never left the floor.
Maria backed up. Katerina advanced.
"Hello Maria," Katerina gurgled. It was not Katerina's voice, but something hollow and dull, that came out of her throat.
Maria stumbled backwards, almost tripping over backwards on the bedside table. A spike of scar-colored flesh shot out from where Katerina's right arm had been. It whistled by Maria's ear, filling the air where her head had been a moment ago.
The spear lodged the wall, still attached to Katerina's arm. A look of frustration crossed over her face.
At the same instant, there was a shattering sound. Maria instinctively turned. The lamp had tipped over, breaking into shards. Its oil spread across the floor, alighting as it did.
Katerina gave a scream of rage. In a single motion, she chopped through her right arm with her left, unanchoring her from the wall. The spear of flesh went limp and began to retract into the wall.
Katerina grabbed a blanket and tried to smother the spreading fire. Suddenly, she fell to the floor with a wet thud.
Maria stood above her, a long and bloody glass shard in her hand. She stabbed Katerina in the neck a second time, then a third. The glass ate into her palm. She didn't care. She stabbed again and again and again. Soon, the neck of her former friend was a mass of meat and blood.
Maria fell to her knees as she released the glass shard. She didn't notice as it shattered on the floor. Her chest filled with empty sobs.
She pushed it down. She pushed everything down as she stood up. There would be time for that later.
The flames began to spread, consuming the mattress.
For now, she knew what she had to do. The house must die. She recalled the chanting she had heard in the cellar. Its heart. It would burn. For Katerina. For Vasiliy. For everyone.
She paused. For Stanislav.

SCP-83184-01 instances are clothed in skin of previous prey for the procurement of further prey. Typically, only one SCP-83184-01 instance is used for hunting, with the rest [DATA EXPUNGED].

Maria walked down the stairs. Behind her, her apartment was slowly consumed in flames. The body of Katerina went up like a bundle of kindling.
She returned to the kitchen. The floors wheezed in protest. She grabbed the matches, squeezing them between her left arm and her side. Her eyes fell to a long knife by the sink. She took it, holding it tight in her right hand.
The doorway to the basement was open. Maria looked down. The stairs yawned into the void below. She inhaled and took the candle from its place by the door. When she lit it, it barely coughed out a spit of light. She tucked the matches back under her arm.
Maria made her way down, taking care on the softened wooden steps. After what felt like years, she made her to the door from before, still closed. She could hear the chanting now, much louder than before.
Her hand wrapped around the handle. A shudder ran up her spine. The handle was warm to the touch.
She turned it and opened the door, gripping the knife.
Inside, a narrow hallway extended like an open throat, ending in dark. Its walls were the color flesh, shot through with veins and capillaries. The chanting was almost deafening.
Stasik, she thought as she stepped inside.

The most common methods of hunting by SCP-83184-01 is the misleading of potential victims directly to the lowermost chamber of SCP-83184 and incapacitation through the use of secreted narcotic compounds. In instances where cooperation or incapacitation are not viable, SCP-83184-01 instances will typically resort to killing in order to feed SCP-83184.

Almost as soon as she stepped through the door, the hallway widened. Its flesh grew tight as it shied away from Maria. She realized it was avoiding the candle.
She held the candle a few inches away from the pulsing flesh of the wall. It gave a high scream and tightened further, like a barely-healed burn. She smiled. The floors flinched as hot wax dripped onto them.
As Maria moved down the hallway, the chanting grew louder. The hall seemed to be moving downwards, into the ground. Part of her wanted to simply torch it now. She knew, though, that she had to keep going. To be sure. She moved quickly.
Finally, Maria reached the end of the hallway.
The hall expanded upwards, far beyond the reach of her candle's light. She took a cautious step, then paused. A few meters ahead, the floor fell out, down into a pit. Maria looked down. She tried not to vomit. She failed.
She moved forward and looked down into the pit.
Ringing the edges of the pit like teeth were dozens of human forms, half-sunk into the mire of flesh and meat that was the wall. All of them were were skinless. Pure muscle and flesh, almost indistinguishable from the wall. In the back of each head, a fat tube, like the medical diagrams of intestines Maria saw in the doctor's office, pulsed steadily.
The voices were deafening. The mouths did not seem to be moving in time with the chants. Maria felt dizzy.
Then, all at once, the voices stopped. The faces all snapped to attention, focused on Maria. She screamed, almost falling backwards. Then a voice came.
"Maria?" it said. It was Stanislav.

Following a period of extended consumption, SCP-83184 will enter a period of growth, manifesting new rooms, architectural decorations, and even entirely new stories.

She turned. It was Stanislav.
He walked unsteadily towards her. He was in his undershirt and boxers. Maria gripped the knife.
"S-stay back," she said, holding the knife in front of her face.
Stanislav looked puzzled. "Maria," he said, continuing towards her, "It's me. Stasik."
She shook her head. "You're not Stanislav," she said, backing up, "You're a that." She motioned towards the pit.
"Maria," said the Stanislav-thing, "I love you. Maria, put out the candle. Please." There was a slight gurgle in its voice. It continued towards her.
She shook her head. "Stay back! I will burn this thing to the ground if you don't," she said. The panic in her voice was rising.
The Stanislav-thing took another step. Maria stepped back. She started as she bumped into the wall. The Stanislav-thing smiled.
From an unseen recess in the wall, a spit of ichor. With a sizzle, the flame of the candle went out.
Maria barely had time to scream as the world went dark. The chanting began again, swallowing her screams far below the earth.

During this time, all SCP-83184-01 instances will be consumed by SCP-83184 following [DATA EXPUNGED].

Instinctively, she raised her knife, slashing wildly. There was a pain in her left arm, like something was breaking the bones within. She screamed and lurched to the side.
Something hard leaped onto her, pinning her shoulders to the floor. She dropped the matches. The weight spoke in the Stanislav-thing's voice. "Stupid, worthless human," it growled in the dark, "To thi-"
With her right arm, she slammed the knife into the voice. It hit something and pushed through. She struck blindly, again and again.
The pressure slackened. She pushed the weight off of her.
The chanting took all of her thoughts but one. Find the matches.
She groped for them in the dark. After an eternity, she found them. She almost cried with relief.
Maria struck a match. Nothing. She tried another, fumbling with the tiny stick in the dark. Nothing again. She almost screamed with frustration.
A third one, finally, took. She looked down.
The thing lay in a pile. The skin that had once been Stanislav's had been distended as the thing morphed. Where there was once a face she had mooned over, then finally had the courage to kiss and love and cherish, there was now just a mess of fleshy ribbons and blood.
She had her answer. She wanted to destroy the entire world.
Her face hardened. For now, this place would have to do.

After this period of initial growth, SCP-83184 will become dormant for a period of 3-6 years, after which it will resume its feeding cycle.

She held a match to the wall. It screamed, and within seconds, it was starting to burn.
The flames climb up. And up. And up. Until they were spreading like stars in the night, far above her head. The roaring of the flames competed with the chanting of the half-people to deafen or madden Maria first.
Maria looked down at the pit. She lit a match, then held it to the box. The cardboard quickly lit. She threw it down.
The light shrank and shrank and shrank, until it was a pinprick of orange. Then it grew as the flame spread.
In less than a minute, the flames consumed the cathedral. Maria ran for the hallway.
She regretted not bringing a match with her, the walls pushing against her. They screamed in impotent rage against her. The flames grew ever closer.
When she reached the cellar, she gasped, taking in her first lungful of fresh air.
She climbed the stairs, almost crawling out. The floor warped and buckled beneath her. The flames from the top floor of the house had spread throughout the building.
As she ran through the foyer, she could feel the floor growing weak. Suddenly, it collapsed.
Maria yelped, barely managing to hold onto a solid edge. Below her, an inferno raged. Beneath it, she could still hear the sounds of the mad chanting.
She struggled, and pulled her way up to safety. The regular walls of the building were all ablaze now.
Finally, she struggled through the front door, coughing lungfuls of soot and god knew what else. She ran to the other side of the street. She turned and fell to her knees as the building blazed.
Maria Alekseevna Durova watched as the thing at 17 Luxemburg Prospekt screamed and sizzled in a pillar of blue and green flame. Far above her, the stars shone through the Leningrad night.


look it had to be done
Listen while you read:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0krxo46Ifbo

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F.A.Q.

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Dr. Cimmerian's head exploded in a cloud of red mist. The man who'd fired the shot was hanging from a rope off the side of a wooden sailing ship that was inexplicably floating in the air, just above the banner that said "SCP Annual Firearm Re-certification and Family Barbecue". The banner was on fire and, for the moment, strung between two wooden posts in the parking lot of the outdoor gun range. The food from the backs of trucks and vans wafted in the air along with the acrid smell of black powder.
The Foundation staff in the crowd reached for their weapons and opened fire on the ship above them. The bullets bounced off an invisible wall, some ricocheting back into the crowd. The wooden sailing ship moved forward in the air, with black sails flapping in the wind. Dr. Shaw moved towards the gun range's parking lot and settled behind a large company van he knew was bullet proof. Dr. Clef and Dr. Rights were already crouched down behind it.
"They got Lombardi," Rights said as Shaw came around the corner.
"Kondraki and Strelinkov too." Shaw offered. "They're fucking efficient."
Dr. Clef shook his head. "They know what they're doing. If I were gonna launch a surprise attack that's who I'd take out first."
Shaw and Rights squinted at Clef for a moment as the sailing ship drifted over their heads.
Clef pursed his lips and looked hurt. "I said if".
A barrage of fire rained down on the group from above as the sailing ship moved in their direction. Half of Right's face exploded onto the pavement. Clef screamed at the sky and emptied his guns into the invisible shield between him and his enemy, someone on board the ship returned a volley of bullets that sank into his torso. Clef dropped the guns and fell forward onto his face.
Dr. Shaw waited for a bullet to find him, but instead a net fell from the sky. Shaw tried to run but it caught his left foot and he found himself being dragged away from the ground. But only a little. The ship turned hard and Shaw smacked into the van, causing it to rock as he was dragged along, and then over the top of it. The ship then began to gain altitude.
Shaw was feeling a sense of vertigo looking at the world upside down, with the ground beneath him and the sky above. It was at that moment he smacked into one of the wooden posts in the parking lot and was knocked unconscious.

"Oy. Captain. He's awake."
Shaw's mouth was dry and his head was still spinning. He could tell he was laying on a wooden floor, and he tried not to vomit from the nausea. "I'm pretty sure I have a concussion."
"Aye. But Doctor Shaw says you'll live." His own voice answered back.
Dr. Shaw looked up at the sky. It was pitch black with no moon or stars or clouds. He leaned forward and looking around he realized he was on the deck of a ship.
Wait.
A ship had attacked them.
"You killed people!"
"Aye," the same voice answered back. Dr. Shaw saw the man who was speaking looked exactly like he did, but was dressed in a bright purple and yellow coat, a large purple hat with a peacock feather on the side, and big black boots. The man also had a thick brown beard with a variety of jewelry weaved into it. The majority of them were silver with a large ruby at the center. Some were amulets, others rings. There were also a couple of smaller earrings like the one Dr. Shaw wore himself.
"Who are you?" Dr. Shaw asked. At this point the rest of the ship's crew had gathered around them as he'd stirred awake, and now were crowding in to get a look at him. Some looked like him, some wore faces he didn't recognize, both male and female, a few were walking upright but were clearly various ape species. All of them looked a little bit dirty and a little bit ragged.
"Captain Shawbeard. We were hoping you'd join the crew. Sorry. Me crew."
"Ever think about just asking?" Dr. Shaw rubbed the back of his head.
"Aye, we usually do, but your Dr. Clef was serving meat from SCP-008 victims. We shot all the infected in the head so's…"
Dr. Shaw's eyes went wide. "He said it was a secret family recipe! I was just about to eat some!"
There was a silence for several minutes and then a ripple of laughter. "Aye. If you don't want to join us you can go back. We'll show you how we knew."
Dr. Shaw slowly got up from the deck. "Are you kidding me? I've wanted to be a pirate since I was a little kid."
Once he was standing Dr. Shaw could see over the sides of the ship. On either side was a pitch black liquid that looked like water. "What is this place?"
Shawbeard laughed. "The sea-between-lands my friend. The place between dimensions where we can live free."
The whole crew jolted as a large crack rang out through the dark and silent sky. Shawbeard's eyes narrowed and he called up to the crow's nest. "Who be shooting at us?"
The man at the top of the main-mast looked through a small spyglass. Moments later he called down. "Captain! The shark punchers've found us!"
Shawbeard leaned back and shouted at the crew. "Get to your posts you swine! Load the cannons! Drop the sails!"
Dr. Shaw looked on as the rest of the ship's crew began to get to work. He shouted after Shawbeard who was making his way aft to the ship's wheel. "What do you want me to do?"
Shawbeard laughed and looked back. "Hoist the fucking colors!"