Name of event: Incident 0401-42-III
Report type: After-Action Report
Filer of Report: Pyotr Ivashutin, Executive Director of the Main Intelligence Directorate (GRU)
Date: 1█/0█/198█
Location: City of Pripyat and surrounding areas, Kiev Oblast, Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
Foreword: This is an official report to the SovMin in response to the State inquiry of Incident 0401-42-III. The Defense Minister, the SovMin, the Executive Director, and the Party's General Secretary are the only ones permitted access to this document. Should this protocol be breached, the offender shall be immediately removed from the Directorate, be brought before the Collegium for charges of treason and breaching of national security, and have their assets seized.
The documents collected are from numerous sources, and may contain information deemed contrary to the other reports. The aforementioned documents, as they are presented in this report, have been doctored to make the flow of information more coherent. Should a request for the undoctored documents arise, they can be attained by making a formal inquiry at the Main Intelligence Directorate's Archived Information and Classified Documents office.
Contributors to this report:
GRU-P Chairman, Alexei S████████
GRU-P Researcher and Psychiatrist, Dr. Gennady Vortikovic
GRU-P Security Personnel, Efreitor Konstantyn T████████ (Ret.) (Dec.)
GRU-P Researcher and Informational Liaison, Alexander Ignatyev
GRU-P Agent and Informational Liaison V███████ Lentivenko, embedded within the Pripyat Regional Militsiya
GRU-P Investigational and Informational Taskforce Lead Researcher, D██████ Chernov
Camera Operator, Reactor #4 Security Circuit, Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, Vadim K███████ (Ret.) (Dec.)
THE FOLLOWING IS A SERIES OF CLASSIFIED DOCUMENTS. WARNING: LEVEL-C OR HIGHER AUTHORIZATION WITHIN THE MAIN INTELLIGENCE DIRECTORATE REQUIRED IN ORDER TO ACCESS DOCUMENTATION. NON-COMPLIANCE OR ANY OTHERWISE BREACH OF SECURITY WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE RELOCATION TO POLITICAL PRISON CAMP, ON EXECUTIVE ORDER OF THE SOVMIN.

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< BEGIN DOCUMENT 0401-42-1 >
< DOCUMENT CLASS: INFORMATIONAL/EXPLANATORY >
Foreword: Alexei S████████ is the Chairman of the Psychotronics Division, Main Intelligence Directorate (GRU-P). He was the lead scientist within the Division before Incident 0401-42-III, and has led the Division's remnant since then.
Date recorded: 0█/0█/198█
Allow me to begin by saying that, if you are a member of the Defense Ministry, you know why the GRU-P exists. There are…things…out there. There are things that defy explanation. There exist creatures and objects and anomalous entities that threaten not just our Republic, but all of humanity as we know it. Comrade Stalin, for all his faults, was smart enough to realize that, and that is why he, in one of his few acts of wisdom, created the Fourth Department, Abnormal Occurrences Commission. This organization that would eventually become the Psychotronics Division, Main Intelligence Directorate - otherwise known as the GRU-P.
I, meanwhile, am the current Chairman the Psychotronics Division; or, at the very least, what little remains of it. My predecessor was my long-time friend, Vasily G█████████, a dedicated scientist and researcher, a hard worker, and a patriotic man who believed fiercely in the People's revolution. He was always euphoric at the thought of improving humanity for the better, and that was one of the reasons that I loved him like a brother.
He and I had attended the ███████████-█████████ Nine-Year School together, both studying biology and chemistry and both yearning to become scientists. Vasily was always pedantic and enthusiastic in his studies, to the point that he often had trouble in understanding why other people did not find interesting the concepts that he and I did. I suppose my shared interests only spurred that mindset onward, to greatness, and eventually, to failure.
We were both ecstatic when we were accepted to the ████████████ university, and even moreso ecstatic when we were accepted into the Main Intelligence Directorate's elite Psychotronics Division. We both loved our country, we both loved our work, and we both loved each other like brothers. By all accounts, we were inseparable, in mind, in spirit, in friendship, in work. But, there was one thing that did separate Vasily and I.
Vasily was too smart for his own good.
Our mother organization claims an official rivalry with the KGB for the purposes of intelligence-gathering and security of the Motherland, though if our organization was known on a larger scale outside of the Defense Ministry than it is, there would be no question as to which organization would be the more important one. But there are rival organizations that exist across the globe, rival organizations that think us defunct. Appearances must be maintained if all is to be well, so the General Secretary of the Party pretends to turn a blind eye to our doings, and when we are given an order from the SovMin, it is via the Executive Director with no mention of our Division by name. There is, officially, no Division P within the Directorate. But we do exist.
We operate in total secrecy. The KGB doesn't even know that we exist, which we like to think of as an impressive feat, however sad it may be that we aren't permitted to brag about it. Technically, we shouldn't be permitted to be alive. With every successive General Secretary, the Psychotronics Division has grown less and less important. In the days of the Great Patriotic War, we were regularly in the field alongside our brothers-and-sisters-in-arms, fighting alongside the Rifle Divisions and Tank Brigades as they drove Hitler's hordes out of our beloved Motherland. The Fascist scum would attempt to use their own captured beings and artifacts on us, and we would make sure to capture or destroy them before their powers could be used to wreak havoc on the warriors of Mother Russia. Those were our glory days, the days of Comrade Stalin, the days of Soviet supremacy in the world, the days when organizations such as the SCP Foundation were our friends.
The Cold War was when it all changed.
Our agents were constantly embroiled in proxy conflicts, rumors of strange vanishings or massacres or occurrences in Korea, Vietnam, Cuba, and Africa. Military personnel of Division P were clashing in skirmish after skirmish with SCP Foundation personnel, always under the guise of the larger wars that tore at the seams of the world. It was in these wars, these conflicts, that the KGB, the successor to Stalin's NKVD, became more prominent, though they had larger fish to fry than a paramilitaristic scientific organization such as the SCP Foundation; no, they were organizing rebellions against CIA-controlled puppet governments or something of the like, work they considered to be above our own. "What does the Directorate do nowadays?" They would ask, smiling and puffing their cigars in our faces. "Because I would like to add 'my laundry' to the list."
If only those fools knew.
And now we come to the main subject matter - Object 0401-42 itself, recovered from a small village in South Vietnam in the early 1970s, when the American Imperialists were discovering that their gambit to halt the spread of revolution in Indochina was failing drastically. Only weeks before the final push into Saigon, our operatives discovered a most interesting being, she being, of course, Object 0401-42.
Her name was █████-████ █████, though we didn't learn that until much, much later. In the early days of the conflict in Vietnam, she had been a Viet Cong guerilla. Psych-eval tests, cross-referenced with physical trauma examinations, suggested that she had been repeatedly beaten, mentally and physically tortured, and sexually assaulted. When PAVN forces discovered her, she was naked, bone-thin, and chained to the wall in her containment cell. Her tormentor's corpse was on the floor, covered in [DATA EXCISED]. The Politburo of the Democratic Republic didn't know what to do with her, and that's how Division P was informed of her existence. Within the month, she was in containment, and designated Object 0401-42.
She didn't talk much, that one. She wouldn't even tell us her name, at first. All she would talk about was a man who she called Ban - 'friend' - who we designated 0401-42-1. Despite the initial reluctance to communicate with us, she did not act out while in containment. She was told that she was safe now; evidently, she had no quarrels with that. She was safe.
In the following weeks, the war came to an end. The Revolution had displaced the Capitalist usurper in the South, the people of Vietnam cheered the name of Ho Chi Minh, and the Psychotronics Division was back in Vietnam. We worked with PAVN officers and personnel to determine the history of Subject 0401-42, Comrade-Private █████-████ █████. A simple background check, cross-referenced with current citizens of Warsaw Pact and Comintern countries revealed that the man she called Ban was a North Vietnamese immigrant to the Motherland, and had recently taken up residence in the Ukraine, working in a nuclear plant. We relocated her containment to the area, and immediately contacted 0401-42-1. Once he discovered that 0401-42 was in the area, he immediately made a request to visit her, which was granted. From that point on, she was much more willing to cooperate with Division researchers and scientists, so long as Ban was with her. Vasily filed the Containment Report that same day.

CONTAINMENT REPORT
DATE: 0█/2█/197█
OBJECT ####-##: 0401-42
ITEM LEVEL: C
DESCRIPTION: Object 0401-42 is a 2█-year-old Vietnamese female, standing approximately 1██ centimeters in height, and weighing ██ kilograms. Object suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder due to suffered traumatic experiences of combat and [DATA EXCISED] in the Vietnam War.
-
Object 0401-42 is, at present, an anomalous item. Object claims to possess powers matching the description and characterization of moderate psionics. Request immediate authorization for testing and experimentation on Object to begin.
-
Humbly,
Vasily G█████████, Chairman, Psychotronics Division, GRU

The reply soon came.

Sender: P. Ivashutin, Executive Director of the GRU
Recipient: V. G█████████, Chairman, Psychotronics Division, GRU
Date: 0█/0█/197█
Official log:
Comrade G█████████,
-
Authorization for testing on Object 0401-42 denied. Defense Ministry does not deem the matter important enough to press at this time. Experimentation request, however, approved. Send me something more promising than simple claims and suppositions, Vasily. If your work shows the same as what the girl claims, then authorization for testing may be approved.
-
Humbly,
Pyotr Ivashutin, Executive Director of the GRU

It wasn't what we had hoped for, but it was something, and that's what mattered. We had been given an opportunity, and now it was time to seize it and to act. If only we had known the results, if only we had known what kind of pressure we were putting on that poor girl, then maybe we wouldn't have gone as far as we did. For all of her silence and stillness, we thought she was willingly cooperating with us.
We extracted DNA samples, performed test after test after test, drew theoretical conclusions, compared notes, and then disproved each-other's theories. It was a mess. We had tried to test her powers against steel, wood, plastic, paper, even water. She was unable to manipulate any of them. Her claims weren't living up to be true, and the Division was, seemingly, throwing money into the drain in order to see what she could do.
She wasn't sure what she was doing wrong, and became increasingly hostile towards us, and that was when her anomalous properties began to show. She would throw up forcefields spanning the hallways, blocking us from coming closer to her than three meters. She would cause temporary paralysis in any researcher or scientist who spoke to her. She would demonstrate all of these powers to us, and she threatened to cause greater damage should we attempt to test on her further.
It took an intervention by 0401-42-1 in order to bring her down from her high of anger and mistrust, and that intervention, of course, only happened because of a midnight visit by GRU-P personnel to 0401-42-1's apartment just outside of the nuclear plant. He was informed, from what I understand, that it was his 'duty as a revolutionary' to perform this action for his new home, and should he not comply, that he would face consequences of 'a [DATA EXCISED] degree'.
This, of course, resulted in what was called 'The Miracle', in which 0401-42 agreed to stay on site under official Division supervision and study, so long as she was subjected to no testing and experimentation. Furthermore, 0401-42-1 was to be given an official position in the Division which would place him closer to her. By this time, it was known that he had proposed marriage to 0401-42, and she had accepted. They were married later that year, the arrangement a settled matter, and like the fools we were, we were already planning on how to betray her.
We just had to know, you see. It wasn't just our job, it was our curiosity! She was an anomaly, something that couldn't be explained in the realm of human understanding. We were scientists, not philosophers. We had read about the experiments that the Fascist scientists had performed on Jews, the elderly, twins, homosexuals, and the mentally ill. We had read about them for study and examination, not because we were learning what we, as scientists, shouldn't do. We wanted to see Object 0401-42's limits, test her boundaries, bring her to as powerful a state as we could, and…then what?
Observe?
Yes, observe. We were genuinely that extent of misinformed. And yet, still, we planned for the day when we could finally carry out the tests that would produce information that the Soviet Union could use in its defeat of the Capitalist west. Vasily was convinced that it would work, as were many of the personnel and staff within the Division. Though I agreed tentatively to the arrangement, in private I would wonder to myself: Is this really what a good Communist would do?
That planning came to fruition in the early summer of 198█. It was, really, quite a simple plan, in both its execution and its cruelty; exposing the subject to the same traumatic experiences that originally brought her psionic powers to their full extent. It was ingenious, and, of course, it was thought up by Vasily. As I said before, Vasily was too smart for his own good. The experiments would be simple. A locally-stationed motor rifle regiment - the ███th - would work with our team on the project, under the guise of executing live-fire drills. They weren't told about Object 0401-42, for fear of a KGB discovery; not of our project, but, remember, of our Division's existence. Object 0401-42 would, meanwhile, simply be blindfolded and cuffed in a nearby mobile containment unit, hooked to a number of pieces of equipment that would measure heart rate, brain activity, anxiety level, and [DATA EXCISED], among other things. Guard personnel would be posted, and, if necessary, an IV with tranquilizer would be fed into the Object's arm.
The plan was approved by Director Ivashutin, with a material assembly deadline of the ██th of August, and the plan was riddled with problems almost from the beginning. The Five-Year Plans were simply not working as effectively as they needed to be [CENSOR NOTE: POTENTIAL EXCISION. REVIEW FROM GLAVLIT IS PENDING.], and our resources took a longer time in arriving, some of them not arriving whatsoever. The mobile containment unit was lost to a roadway accident en route to the testing site, the IV was equipped with less tranquilizer than was needed, and the number of guard personnel requested was five times higher than the number we received. Vasily was becoming disconcerted with Director Ivashutin's perceived lack of interest for the project, writing to the Comrade Director to state his grievances and worries as the deadline drew nearer and nearer.

Sender: V. G█████████, Chairman, Psychotronics Division, GRU
Recipient: P. Ivashutin, Executive Director of the GRU
Date: 0█/08/198█
Official log:
Comrade Ivashutin,
-
Request for an extension of the deadline for material preparation purposes; what time we have remaining simply isn't enough. We need more materials, more manpower. We need resources, Comrade Director. Object 0401-42 is dangerous, we can't afford unnecessary losses in case something goes wrong. I reiterate: we request more time to assemble resources, Comrade. Otherwise, the project's safety may be in jeopardy.
-
Humbly,
Vasily G█████████, Chairman, Psychotronics Division, GRU

Vasily's complaints were legitimate ones. I think the entire Division realized that. The Directorate, however, wasn't as understanding, as evidenced by their reply which came just over a week later.

Sender: P. Ivashutin, Executive Director of the GRU
Recipient: V. G█████████, Chairman, Psychotronics Division, GRU
Date: 1█/08/198█
Official log:
Comrade G█████████,
-
Requests for deadline increase denied. The GRU, and to an extent the entire Defense Ministry, has grown tired of your repeated demands, Comrade G█████████. You have been petitioning for more resources, more support, more immediate action in regards to Object 0401-42, for nearly a decade. You have been given your opportunity, Comrade, and it is highly recommended that you do not waste it. You have two weeks to acquire what more you need. Use it well, Chairman.
-
Humbly,
Pyotr Ivashutin, Executive Director of the GRU

Vasily was furious. He would ramble on and off for hours about how the Directorate 'had its head shoved so far up its ass', how the advances in science would be worth the cost to the Motherland. I managed to calm him down, and though he acknowledged my points and opinions, he treated me coldly in the days preceding and following his reply to the Directorate's declaration, which was sent in a tart, to-the-point, almost passive-aggressive manner.

Sender: V. G█████████, Chairman of the GRU, Psychotronics Division
Recipient: P. Ivashutin, Executive Director of the GRU
Date: 2█/08/198█
Official log:
Comrade Ivashutin,
-
Verdict is acknowledged. Testing is to proceed as scheduled by the Directorate's authorization, no matter any material shortages that may occur. Directorate personnel and staff are, furthermore, encouraged to supervise the experiments. Cover story of live-fire maneuvers to be published in the local newspapers three (3) days before the testing is to begin.
-
Humbly,
Vasily G█████████, Chairman, Psychotronics Division, GRU

And so, the cards had been dealt. Disaster loomed under our noses.
The day to begin testing came the next spring, and of course, we were unprepared. The winter was harsh, and transportation of the materials we needed was overlooked in favor of what we were told were 'more important matters'. Due to Glasnost, nothing could be transported on a top-secret basis, everyone had to know what three truckfulls of scientific materials were for. Vasily was anxious, I was nervous, and the other staff and personnel were uncertain…at the very least, though, we were able to deal with 0401-42 easily enough. A detachment of the ███th Motor Rifles arrived to escort us to the testing grounds, and we packed 0401-42 into the column's rear vehicle, having slipped Level-C soporifics in her breakfast earlier that morning.
The ride was a joyful experience by all means, with the only one who stayed quiet being Vasily, who had been in a spell of cynicism ever since the response from the Directorate. I felt sorry for him, though I admit that on that day I was caught up in the happiness of the others. We were excited again, it was like the beginning months of the Object's containment were happening all over again. We didn't regard her as a person, but as a thing in a person's body. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment, and I only wish that we had realized it at the time. When we finally arrived, we quickly began setting up; the ███th was already deploying, and we had a very limited amount of equipment to set up. I was already preparing to take notes, myself.

Project: Test 0401-42-III
-
Date:

'What day is it, Vasily?' I recall asking.
He thought for a moment. 'Saturday,' he finally replied, nodding, 'the 26th.'

Date: Saturday, 26/04/1986

< END DOCUMENT 0401-42-1 >

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< BEGIN DOCUMENT 0401-42-2>
< DOCUMENT CLASS: INFORMATIONAL/INTERROGATORY >
Foreword: Konstantyn T████████, an Efreitor of the ██th Security and Containment Battalion of the Psychotronics Division, is a survivor of Incident 0401-42-III. For his actions during the Incident (and in respect to the Division's need for secrecy), T████████, a Private at the time, was promoted to Efreitor and awarded with the Honoured Blood Donor of the USSR medal for his wounds sustained in the containment of Object 0401-42. The following document is a transcript of an interview with Efr. T████████, conducted by GRU-P psychiatrist and researcher Dr. Gennady Vortikovic. The Doctor had been giving the Efreitor treatment for third-degree radiation burns and psychiatric care prior to this interview, and as such, did not express desire to press Efr. T████████ for information if he appeared uncomfortable.
The transcript of this report was taken just days before T████████'s demise (see Document 0401-42-4, Report 0791) at the hands of what is believed to be Object 0401-42.
Date recorded: 1█/0█/198█

< BEGIN LOG >
Dr. Vortikovic: Zdravstvuyte, Efreitor. Please, be seated; this won't take long at all. I hope you traveled well?
Efr. T████████ Zdravstvuyte to you as well, Doctor.
Efr. T████████ sits, slouching back in the chair, appearing tired.

Efr. T████████: Yes, I traveled well, thank you for asking. I felt confident enough to drive here on my own today.
Dr. Vortikovic: I'm glad to hear that. I take it the treatment is working, then?
Efr. T████████ It seems to be, Doctor. Thank you for your help.
Dr. Vortikovic: It's what I do, Efreitor. Now, with all due respect, we aren't here to discuss follow-up dates for our sessions. We're here to discuss the incident that occurred on the date of the 26th of April.
Efr. T████████: Of course, Doctor…where would you like me to start?
Dr. Vortikovic: From the beginning, Konstantyn. We have all day, as is per usual. Feel free to take as much time as you need.
Efr. T████████: Thank you, Doctor.
Efr. T████████ sighs, remaining silent for a few moments.
Efr. T████████: What I, and my squadmates, saw that day…it's beyond explanation. I was, and still am, a young man, but by the end of that day I felt like I'd aged two decades. I didn't know what that damned thing was, but if there's one thing I did know, it's how the day was supposed to go, how everything was supposed to fall into place and by the end of the month we'd be rolling in the renewed funding, renewed contracts, renewed importance. It was supposed to be the rebirth of the Division's golden age, and instead, I'd dare say that this is going to be the Division's downfall.

Dr. Vortikovic: Tell me about the experiment, Efreitor. Were you close to the initial testing site?
Efr. T████████: No, and I'm thankful for that every day. Goodness, no. My squad was actually on patrol and security duty, making sure no civilians came within the designated area for testing and whatnot. We were about half of a klick away from the testing site, on a hill overlooking the plant where 0401-42-1 was located. There were seven of us - Serzhant Volokov, Mladshiy Serzhant Loginovsky, Efreitor Kostikov, and four Ryadovyye, those being me, Azarov, Benevich, and Ignatyev. It had been Azarov's birthday the day before, and he was still hung over that morning, though his eyes were as sharp as they always were.
Our setup wasn't exactly designed for keeping people out, no, our first priority was to make sure that we weren't seen. We weren't dressed in regulation Soviet army uniforms, but because of our demeanor, our equipment, hell, the fact that we had rifles, it was fairly obvious that we were some kind of security personnel. Nobody could know that the Division existed, nobody could know that we were on that hill, so we provided overwatch. If someone came too far up into the hills, we were to "T-and-A" them, that being "tranquilize and administer amnestics". Not that they would come into the hills in the first place, of course, there was supposedly nothing out here except for woods. They knew that there was some kind of training exercise involving the ███th, but nobody questioned it. It was peaceful, except for the one or two times that Azarov had to excuse himself in order to throw up.
The day carried on a lot like that, we were all laying down in the thick, wet grass, our arms and legs aching from the awkward prone positions we had been holding for hours. I was on the second-highest hill, with Loginovsky and Azarov. Serzhant Volokov was with Kostikov on the highest hill, and Benevich and Ignatyev were positioned on the reverse slopes of both respective hills. Azarov kept getting up to vomit, and Loginovsky droned on and on into the walkie-talkie in that irritating, nasally voice of his. He kept whining about how bored he was, how he wished he could see that Vietnamese bitch squirm.
Dr. Vortikovic: Did you know what they were doing to Object 0401-42?
Efr. T████████: No, and at the time, I might not have given a damn. They were my superiors, they determined my payroll, and I wasn't about to spoil my next month over something as, what I considered, insignificant as some Vietnamese woman with supposed psionic powers. All I knew that day was that I was sitting on top of some remote, grassy knoll, overlooking a nuclear plant, sitting between an alcoholic and a man with a fly's buzz for a mouth, making sure that 0401-42's husband didn't come any further than a tenth of a klick from the exit of that building. What's funny is that, a bit before midday, one of the Division's vehicles, or hell, maybe it was one of the ███th's, I don't know, came roaring down the road, and within five minutes 0401-42-1 was being escorted out. Then, ten minutes later, I hear Loginovsky sigh with relief, and he tells me that we've been given the order to stand down and take a rest. I, and I'm fairly sure the rest of us in that squad, didn't know what the fuck was going on.
Dr. Vortikovic: And then the incident occurred.
Efr. T████████: Exactly. I wasn't there when the containment breach occurred, but based on the stories some of the other survivors have told me, I should be glad that I wasn't. It was shortly after we'd been given the order to stand down, we were maintaining contact with those at the test site. As it turns out, they had been having trouble in calming 0401-42 down; the experiments were working, to an extent that they didn't think success would reach. The clacks of rifle fire, the booms of artillery, the whistling hum of cargo jets flying overhead…the poor woman was in a blindfold, she must not have been able to tell if she was having a nightmare or not. She was whimpering, sobbing, shaking, and sparks were buzzing behind the blindfold. Evidently, it was feared that the sparks would get in her eyes and cause her even more pain than she was already writhing in, so the big mistake was made; the blindfold was taken off.
Dr. Vortikovic: And what was that mistake?
T████████ speaks in a growling tone. You know damn well, Doctor.
Dr. Vortikovic: Now now, don't get angry. Yes, of course I know, Konstantyn. We all were. But information for the log is information for the log, and it has to be recorded.
T████████ inaudibly grumbles for several moments before finally speaking again.
Efr. T████████: It let her see just what was going on. Her fear and anxiety turned into a boiling hot rage, and reportedly, she lashed out at the security personnel, though not harming any of them. The Division researchers and scientists had already planned for that contingency, though their actual plan wasn't the best.
Dr. Vortikovic: And what was that plan, Efreitor?
Efr. T████████: They brought 0401-42-1 to the testing site, the idiots. What good could that possibly have served? Their entire idea was that his presence would tame her, calm her down, maybe even soothe her in her time of sorrow and trouble. Yes, because bringing a second Post-Traumatic Stressed war veteran to a live-fire drill would make things even better. He started flipping the fuck out too, crying, trying to cover his ears, but he was handcuffed and made to stand alongside his wife while the ███th kept on firing, fake-charging, rolling around in motor vehicles and tanks. My unit and I had no idea this was happening, we could only hear the booms, and the radioman on the other side was nowhere near the two, so we didn't hear any noise from them. Not immediately, at least.
Dr. Vortikovic: But eventually? What happened?
T████████ sighs.
Efr. T████████: They fucking shot 0401-42-1. He wasn't being cooperative, you see, he kept tugging on 0401-42's arm, trying to get her out of there, because he knew it wasn't healthy for her. He didn't even care that it was giving him flashbacks, all he cared about was that the woman he loved was in discomfort, that poor fool. He made repeated pleas to be let go, to take his wife and be allowed to leave, and he was repeatedly denied. He was getting desperate, the personnel were becoming irritated, and 0401-42 was crying even harder than before.
Finally, just before 1230 hours, there was a lull in security around the two when a group of security personnel heard some fucking rodent in the woods and thought it was an intruder, and 0401-42-1 tried to make a run for it with his wife. The radioman was the only one who noticed, and, while leaving his walkie on, confronted them. We could hear the sobbing of 0401-42 and the desperate plea of 0401-42-1 to be allowed to slip away, but the radioman popped him right there, just fucking blew him away with his Makarov.
Dr. Vortikovic: And then?
Efr. T████████: The line went dead, but we could hear what happened then. It was…probably the most terrifying thing I've heard in the entirety of my life. We were hundreds of meters from the testing site, on the top of a hill, with thick grass and trees and fucking gunfire and everything imaginable that could have drowned out that awful sound, but it still rang clear. 0401-42 wailed. What saddens and frightens me even more, is that you could detect the individual emotions in it; first, a high-pitched, shocked shriek, followed by a drawn out sob, which slowly morphed into the most bone-chilling, furious roar of a scream that I think is humanly possible. The gunfire had stopped as soon as the shriek began, but oh boy, did it begin again when that wail ended. Not for long, mind you; we couldn't see what was going on down there, but we could hear it.
By now, the line had come back up, and the panicked sounds we could barely make out were suddenly blasting into our ears. There was ragged gunfire, confused shouting, yelling, screaming, the roar of revving engines, and most of all, the screams and wails of the infuriated psionic as she went absolutely fucking ballistic on that camp. The radioman was, by our best guess, dead, because we heard no-one speaking directly into the phone; rather, we heard sounds picked up in the background. 'What the fuck is that?' someone yelled. 'Shoot her! She's fucking psycho!' someone else chimed in. We heard the creaking of metal and then a loud bang, seeing a sudden plume of flame and thick black smoke in the distance. Some panicking bastard screamed in the background, 'She blew up a tank! She just blew up the fucking tank!' Everything went quiet for a few minutes after that, and then, as you know…
Dr. Vortikovic: All hell broke loose.
T████████ nods silently, remaining quiet for a few moments.
Efr. T████████: Did I ever tell you about one of the other survivors I met, Doc? His story?
Dr. Vortikovic: You haven't told me, no. That might make a good addition to the file.
Efr. T████████: I met him just a few days ago, actually. D█████ Vasiliev. He was a good guy, though the poor bastard was in a mental hospital when I found him. He was from the ███th, though he'd been approved for psychiatric leave immediately following the incident, and later he resigned outright. He told me his story over lunch, and his hand - or, at least, what remained of it, after half had been blown off by a friendly fire incident - was fidgeting the entire time. Vasiliev had been one of the ones in the immediate vicinity of 0401-42 just as Azarov, Loginovsky, and I were listening and on the verge of shitting our pants with fear. We didn't hear everything that went on, and he didn't just hear it, he saw it.
Dr. Vortikovic: What did he see, Konstantyn?
Efr. T████████: Terrible things, based on what he told me, Doctor. Vasiliev said that, around the time everything had gone quiet for us, the shrieking and wailing had subsided into a constant, pained sob. 0401-42 was wandering around, hands clasped over its eyes, hunched over in apparent agony. Some idiot named Petrovsky had tried to get near her, to calm her down. Petrovsky had dropped his rifle, raised his hands, and approached her while looking at her face, trying to look into her eyes through her fingers.
He had approached her slowly, and she was still, hands still covering her eyes, sparks flying from between her now scorched face and her palms, and she quieted down, to less than a whimper. Petrovsky thought he had calmed her down…and then vanished into a pink mist the second she moved her hands away and screamed at him again. There were no body parts, no flesh or blood, just a pink cloud as his weapon and helmet clattered to the ground between the boots that were formerly his. At that point, according to Vasiliev, everyone just started fucking running and shooting at anything that came close to them. It had been less than two minutes, but it felt like it'd been years. Loginovsky was white in the face, Azarov was sobered out of any remaining hangover that plagued him, and I could feel my legs tingling.
Dr. Vortikovic: You wanted to run?
Efr. T████████: Fucking right I wanted to run! I don't think any of my squad wanted to stay there. We knew the punishments that the Division dealt out to deserters, especially during a containment breach like this, and we were debating running away even with that in mind. Besides, what were we gonna do, let that thing get into the nuclear plant, or even worse, into Pripyat? In an agitated state like that, 0401-42 could have inflicted hundreds of civilian casualties. There wouldn't just be national, but international outcry and speculation as to what the fuck happened. There were no other units between us and 0401-42, or at least, none that were capable of being coherently organized, and we knew we had to do something. So we did all that we could do, we set up a perimeter and we looked for that fucking psionic.
We loaded our rifles, checked our sights, fired off a round or two to make sure our weapons were still working. There was no reason for them not to be, of course, but we just wanted to be sure. The thing is, though…well, it was as if she had disappeared into thin air. Plenty of scattered troops were occasionally popping off shots, but there were no more explosions, no more screams, nothing. Or, well, okay, there were still screams, screams from the several wounded, as well as those who were hit by friendly fire. The medics had a field day, I think they treated something like ██████-████ casualties? And they wanted us to organize a search for that fucking thing. Organize a search? After what had just happened? There was no way that any of the ███th's troops were going to be reliable, if they even showed up at their roll call the next morning.
So it was left up to us, specifically, my squad. We were told to stay put, that they would shuttle us some supplies, but we'd be camping the night. The Division left us a radio, some walkie-talkies, more ammunition and food, and three flashlights, and essentially abandoned us for the night. Again, they determined our payrolls, containment breach or not, we weren't exactly going to be questioning their orders. While the rest of us slept, two of us would be awake at all times, and if we heard anything or saw anything, we'd wake the others and investigate immediately. We spent the night that way, taking our turns in the watch shift, our camp out in the open at the top of the tallest knoll overlooking the Nuclear plant.
For the first few hours, all was quiet, but eventually, after night had fallen, activity began to arise. When I was standing watch, I had a very strict method of doing so; I would look at a tree for five seconds, and then swing my eyes over three trees to the right or three trees to the left, and by doing this, I would look at an area over the course of, say, a minute, and then sweep it over again. Every now and again I would see a small spark of light, or hear a rustle of movement, and I would call out, 'Who's there?' I would usually get a reply, 'Ivanovsky, ███th!' or 'Alexandrev, Motor Rifles!' or something of the like. Around one o'clock that morning, however, I finally saw the definitive shape of the Object. The moon was out, its light made the grassy field around us shimmer. The wind was gentle, it was quiet, occasional breezes rustling the tree leaves, and out of the wind I heard what sounded like a despairing moan. Due to my exhaustion, I played it off as my ears playing tricks on me, until my eyes caught sight of her, of course.
She was shambling across the field, sparks coming from her eyes, her head drooped, arms limply hanging from her side. She was still in her white hospital gown-like clothing that the Division had given her, though whether it was speckled or simply tattered I couldn't tell from how far away she was. She was probably…a hundred, hundred and twenty meters away when I saw her, and I froze. She wasn't heading right for us, hell, I doubt she knew where she was going, but her path would mean she was walking less than ten meters from our tents, and that was assuming she passed by harmlessly. It was a setup for disaster.
Azarov was the other one on guard duty, and he was looking the other way. 'Azarov!' I remember whispering to him, 'Go wake up the others, tell them to stay in their fucking tents and turn the lights out. After you've done that, you come with me, and we'll stay in my tent. 0401-42's coming this way. I see her.' He looked at me quizzically, then looked where I pointed, and his eyes widened. He didn't question me, just ran over and woke up the others one by one. I crouched, meanwhile, and got back to my tent as quickly as possible. The lights went out, and I unzipped the flap on my tent, looking out of it, just peeking, trying to see where 0401-42 was. It was torturous, that much is for fucking sure. It took her twenty more minutes to get within audible speaking range of our tents, and I could hear that she was mumbling, though whether it was Vietnamese or another language, I couldn't tell. It got even worse, though.
Dr. Vortikovic: How so, Konstantyn?
Efr. T████████: She fucking stopped, that's how. She just stood there, rambling to herself in her demented Vietnamese or whatever-the-fuck language. My heart was pounding, there was a frog in my throat, my feet were numb, my mouth was dry. I was fucking terrified and I didn't dare make a sound. At one point I ducked down because I was sure she had turned to look in my direction, but if she saw me, she didn't do anything about it, she just kept standing there. When her gaze was finally averted, I resumed looking up, only to discover with horror that Ignatyev and Volokov had, for some reason or another, stood up in their tents and tripped over something, causing their entire tent to collapse. 0401-42's head snapped in that direction, and I was only able to mutter 'Chyort…' before all hell broke loose.
0401-42 began to wail again, fingers curling into fists as sparks flew from her eyes. She charged the tent, and I could hear Ignatyev's screams as she tore him limb from limb. Someone, I assume Volokov, fired a shot, and he, too, then screamed. I didn't see what happened to him, for by that point I had yelled 'Out! Out!' to Azarov and we had taken off running. Loginovsky, Kostikov, and Benevich were right behind us, the five of us hoofing it down the hill towards the Nuclear plant in the dark, 0401-42's wails growing louder as she sprinted after us. Benevich tripped, and 0401-42 didn't give him a chance to so much as blink before he was vaporized, and it was his death that gave the remainder of us the chance to get the hell out of there. We reached the Nuclear plant, taking shelter in the area around Reactor Four, and thought ourselves safe. What a mistake that was.
< END LOG >

< END DOCUMENT 0401-42-2>

SHOW DOCUMENT 0401-42-3

– hide block

< BEGIN DOCUMENT 0401-42-3 >
< DOCUMENT CLASS: INFORMATIONAL/INTERROGATORY >
Foreword: The following is the log of an interview with Camera Operator (Ret.) Vadim K███████ (Dec.), formerly in charge of Reactor #4 Security Camera Circuit, Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. Interviewing K███████ is professional Division-P researcher and informational liaison to the Main Intelligence Directorate Alexander Dyatlov. The following interview took place within K███████'s at-the-time residence, the ███████ ██████████ Psychiatric in Pripyat, where he was moved several months prior to this date after his successful recovery from radiation burns. K███████ is under the impression that Dyatlov works for a local branch of Pravda, and furthermore, K███████ has not been informed of either the Division's existence, or the nature of what he saw. K███████ had initially been approved for administration of Class-C amnestics following the end of the interview, however K███████ had passed away before the amnestics were able to be administered.
Date recorded: 0█/0█/198█

< BEGIN LOG >
Dyatlov: Thank you for having us, Tovarisch. I promise you, this won't take a very long time.
K███████: It is no intrusion, Mister Dyatlov. It's not like I get much company nowadays, anyway. I feel I must apologize, however, because I can only remember so much from that night, no matter how much Pravda would like for me to remember. I'll tell you what I can, but I beg of you, if I say I do not remember, or that I do not know, that you believe me.
Dyatlov: I believe that can be arranged, Mister K███████. What is important, after all, is what you can remember. The accident at Chernobyl, while not overly serious, is still an accident, and accidents must be learned from. There were deaths that night, and don't think that reflects on you, Tovarisch. Your actions likely saved many lives, as a matter of fact. So let's put any lingering thoughts of guilt and self-blame to rest, hmm?
K███████: Thank you, Mister Dyatlov. Truly…thank you.
Dyatlov: It's no problem whatsoever. Now, to the matter at hand, shall we?
K███████: Of course. Where would you like me to begin?
Dyatlov: Initial reports indicate that the accident occurred around 1:23 in the morning. What happened throughout the day before then?
K███████: Not much, they were testing a new emergency cooldown feature, if I remember correctly. It was a slow night, I confess I wasn't being the most attentive at my job. It was late, I was tired, it was the weekend. You see how easily I make excuses for myself?
K███████ smiles.
K███████: As for the day itself, it was uneventful. My shift started maybe five, six o'clock at night? It had been an average day before then. My wife was working on grading assignments at the schoolhouse, and I had been home watching our new child, Roska. She's a gorgeous little thing, had only been born a few weeks before…sorry, sorry. I'm getting off track. It had been a lazy Saturday in Pripyat, and it would surely be even lazier a Saturday night. There had been whispers through the town of some sort of live-fire drills a kilometer or so east of the plant, and throughout the day we could hear dull thuds of tank cannons and whatnot. Evidently, there had been a mishap with a live bomb or something, because earlier there was a high-pitched whistling followed by a large bang,
K███████ slams his clenched fist against the table to simulate the effect,
K███████: With reports of casualties to boot. It was awful, from what I'd heard, and doubtless Pravda would have a story about it the next day. I was late to work. I had nearly run over some poor girl! She was standing in the road, whimpering, her back faced to my car, dressed in a white hospital gown. I tried to ask her if she was alright, but she simply screamed, whipped around, and I nearly rammed her with the front of my vehicle before I slammed on the brakes. She ran off before I could ask her if she was alright. At least I didn't kill her, I remember thinking, before I drove the remaining few kilometers up the road to the Plant and punched my card for the night shift. Had I known what she was, what she could do…well, they would have put me in this place sooner, wouldn't they?
Dyatlov: What could she do, Tovarisch? What happened that night?
K███████: I still am not entirely sure of what happened at first, Mister Dyatlov, but the second part of that night is something that still provokes the occasional nightmare. I wouldn't wish that kind of terror, fear, and pain on my worst enemies. Pardon me if I'm not the most capable of describing it, Mister Dyatlov…there simply aren't words sufficient to do so, at least with ease.
Dyatlov: Of course. Like I said, we have all day. Feel free to take your time.
K███████ nods, remaining quiet in order to gather his thoughts.
K███████: To answer your earlier question, Mister Dyatlov, I don't know what she could do. Not in full, at least. I knew she had the capacity to kill, and I knew that she was about as feral as a human being can devolve into being. There are whispers from other survivors that she was some sort of psionic, but I never saw any electricity flying from her palms. I do know, however, that she broke in to the facility that night, and shortly afterward there was some sort of power surge, the same power surge that led to the explosion in Reactor 4. Luckily, the soldiers who arrived were able to contain her, and save my life.
Dyatlov: Soldiers? From the ███th, perhaps? There were live fire drills that day, after all, and some of the bystander accounts say that they scattered after the bomb went off.
K███████: Maybe they were from the ███th, though they wore no uniform that I ever saw. I admit that I haven't exactly been keeping up with the times, but I served with the ██th at Zhenbao Island in 1969, and though I don't remember much aside from the Chinese falling upon us like waves, I do remember that our uniforms did not look like theirs; they weren't Soviet Army, but they were also no special agents, as far as I could tell.
I ran into them around five past one in the morning. The testing on the Reactor was about to begin, some new fail-safe method they had come up with and wanted to test. As such, they had demanded that my security camera circuit be running at all times. They knew that I was tired, they told me, but this was one of the most important tasks that I had ever been given while working at the Plant, and they expected the best out of me. Just before they began the experiment, I noticed that one of my cameras appeared to be out; the one in the long back hallway, leading from Reactor 4 to the emergency exit door. What I found odd at the time is that, though the camera's screen was black, I could still see the ticking numbers in the corner, indicating that it was still running. I decided, against my better judgment, that I had better go down and investigate.
Dyatlov: Is that when you first encountered the soldiers?
K███████: Yes. As it turned out, the camera wasn't broken, and as soon as I reached the area where the camera was located, I felt a cold piece of metal prodding against my back, and a hushed growl of 'Stay quiet, and we won't hurt you.' I was scared, of course I would be scared, but I did not attempt to make a ruckus or anything of the sort, and that, as I found out later, would save my life. I was soon gagged and handcuffed, though not blindfolded, and pulled into a side room, one of the offices of a daytime worker at the Plant. Their leader, a stocky man named T████████, didn't say much, save for two things; to keep quiet, because 'it' might be near, and to keep calm, because they were only looking for shelter from 'it'. I wondered what 'it' was, and when they took my gag off, I calmly asked, though what they told me wasn't exactly undoubtedly believable.
Dyatlov: What did they tell you that 'it' was?
K███████: A psionic of some sort; she had been responsible for the deadly incident at the Drills earlier in the day.
Dyatlov: And that's all? They didn't tell you anything else?
K███████: Like I said, Mister Dyatlov, merely to be quiet and stay close to them. They said that they had to kill this thing before it did massive amounts of damage, and that because I worked here and knew the building's layout, I would be vital to their mission.
Dyatlov: Did you begin to think that they were special forces when they mentioned their 'mission' and the like?
K███████: I confess that I possessed lingering thoughts on the matter, especially with the way they conducted themselves when we were underway, though that took a while. At first, we were waiting in that infernally hot room; how could a room be that warm on a night in April? Or maybe it was simply the stress and fear that was making me sweat. The others were certainly sweating. 'We're trapped in here,' T████████ had announced, 'until that fucking thing walks away.' I asked if I might have a look to see what 'it' was, and T████████, giving me a look as if I was the craziest man in the world, shrugged and said, 'If you want to, Comrade, just make sure it doesn't see you.'
At that point, I didn't know what to expect. In ten minutes, I had gone from a drowsy security camera operator to a nervous wreck hunting a deadly psionic with a team of potential special agents or spies. Of course I was nervous, and that nervousness faded into fear when I looked out that window and realized it was the Vietnamese girl I had almost hit with my car earlier in the day, except now, she was changed. Her hair was matted, her clothes in tatters, her hands and face splattered red. The soldiers or agents or whoever they were had been running from her, had sought shelter from her. I could understand their fright.
T████████ finally pulled me back down after a few seconds, clamping a hand over my mouth to make sure that my surprised yelp was inaudible. 'Just stay quiet, and we'll be alright.' I nodded, and after a few minutes, there was a soft clank somewhere in the distance. We heard her moan with what sounded like agony, as if she had a pounding headache, and when I looked out the window again, she was shambling down the hallway in the direction I had come from. The others seemed relieved that she was gone, but I was struck with worry. T████████ noticed my facial expression and asked what the matter was, to which I replied that the way she was going was the path towards Reactor #4, and there was an experiment being conducted on it that day. There were not only several people in there, but the Reactor was also active, and if she got in there during the experiment…well, let's just say, we'd need to get out of there pretty damn quick. The others agreed, and we were off.
We split into two groups, with T████████, myself, and two other men, one named Azarov and one named Kostikov, were to leapfrog from room to room down that damned hallway, always keeping her in our sight while making sure to stay well back. The others were to try go down the only other path that went from the exit to Reactor #4, which served more as a large storage compartment for the Reactor. It was the shorter route, and in theory, it would also be safer, but I chose to go with T████████ instead. Goodness, am I grateful that I did.
Dyatlov: And why is that, Mr. K███████?
K███████: Because that was the room that was most exposed to radiation when she did get to the reactor. We all heard the screams, we all saw the sparks fly…but I'm getting ahead of myself. Where was I? Ah, yes. We were split up, both teams carefully making their way towards the Reactor, inching closer to her by the minute. We would tiptoe just ten or fifteen meters behind her, opening doors as cautiously as we could, hiding in rooms if she began to turn. We made some slight noise, but the humming of the running generators muffled most of it.
When we were about halfway to the generator, hiding in the safety of a room, I snapped. I was highly disoriented, drowsy, and my head was aching. I was following the orders of someone who was half my age, who I didn't know. I was being told to stealthily follow and track a creature, the powers of which I did not comprehend, by someone who refused to identify themselves to me. I was aiding intruders who, for all I knew, could have been executing an elaborate ruse to commit some kind of theft; there were monetary possessions in the storage rooms that the others had gone through. And so when T████████ pulled me into one room, I gave him a piece of my mind.
'Alright,' he whispered to me, 'You're going to-'
'I'm going to do what, Mister T████████?' I snapped back at him. Much louder than I should have. Both Azarov and Kostikov's eyes grew wide and he held his finger to his mouth with alarm, insisting that I remain silent. I did not heed his warning. 'I've done everything you've told me to, without questioning who you are, why you're here, or what that' - I pointed to the wall in the general direction that she was walking - 'thing is! Why should I believe what you tell me? Why should I help you? Who are you, and what's going o-' I was cut off by the sound of a deafening, frenzied shriek that echoed loudly from the hallway, seemingly only feet away. We all froze, and T████████, only after a few moments of silence, signed to Kostikov that he should check out the window of the door to see what was happening.
Dyatlov: What did he see?
K███████ remains silent for a few moments.
K███████: Have you ever had a dream, Mister Dyatlov, what was so vivid, so terrifying, that it left you shivering and quivering in your bed for hours after you had woken up? Trembling at every sound, every flash of sudden movement, something so utterly horrifying that you bury it as deep within your mind as possible?
Dyatlov: I have had my nightmares, Mister K███████, though I cannot, thankfully, say I have had any of that extent.
K███████: Then surely you can understand that, if a nightmare can have such an effect, then a real-life scenario would have even more intense ramifications on one's mental stability. Perhaps that's why they moved me here, even though they tell me that it's only temporary, that the recovery wards of the actual dedicated hospitals are overflowing with those contaminated by the Chernobyl Plant's radiation, that us mental patients don't deserve the same treatment as those of able mind, but unable body.
K███████ sighs, continuing moments later.
K███████: Kostikov peeked out of that window, and seconds later, there simply was no Kostikov. His eyes seemed locked on the image outside the window, and he slowly began to straighten from a crouch to a standing position, back hunched and palms open, looking as if he was going to back away. Another loud, drawn out scream, though this one was out of bloodcurdling anger, slowly rising in pitch, similar to a teapot with the water approaching full boil. Kostikov was able to mutter perhaps a fraction of a second's worth of a scream before the door was knocked off of its hinges and sent flying, pinning Kostikov against the wall.
Before the door could as much as fall away from him after the initial impact, she came running in, shrieking like a madwoman, pressing herself against the door, frantically trying to claw at him through the wood. T████████ shouted at us to run for our lives, and even though Kostikov was begging us not to leave him, we ran, booking it as fast as we could to the Reactor. We could hear his screams of agony the further from the room we got, with one last drawn out cry ringing clear as we heard that awful wail from her again, though something unexpected happened, too - there was an explosion. 'He had a grenade on him…' T████████ explained. 'It should slow her down.'
Of course, we had no actual idea if a grenade would slow her down. She was, after all, a human, but she was also a psionic, and we had no idea what that could mean in terms of ability to heal from wounds. She had other aspects about her that were supernatural, that's certainly for sure, so why could this, too, not be extraordinary? So we hoped that she had been damaged by that grenade, but of course we thought about what we could do if she wasn't. It's human nature to dwell over negative possibilities in times like these. We had barely anything in the form of armaments - T████████ had a Makarov, Azarov a folding-stock Kalashnikov, and one of the men in the other group had a knife - and if a grenade couldn't kill her, or at least incapacitate her, then we were in for a big helping of trouble.
At this time, it had been maybe fifteen minutes since I had originally been pulled into this debacle. The test would be running soon, we had to warn the others to shut the reactor down and get out while they still had time. 'Something tells me that a grenade won't deter her for long,' T████████ said as we ran through the hall. What's funny is that, had there been someone just casually strolling through the hall at that moment, there wouldn't appear to be anything strange, aside from the group of soldiers, of course. The lights were on and functioning normally, the doors were closed, there were occasional papers on the floor, but the hall was clean, and the screams had, apparently, stopped.
We had no idea where she had gone, if she was still following us or if she had simply turned docile and was wandering back from the direction she had came. By this point, we had stopped running, moving simply at a walk again, albeit as quietly and cautiously as possible. Kostikov had just been killed, and the being was apparently gone. Where had she gone? Was the test still in danger? Was this all some dream I was having, passed out at my post?
T████████ snapped me out of my thoughts. 'What's your name, anyway?' He asked me. I told him that I was Vadim K███████, and added that I was a security camera circuit operator. 'Vadim, you need to listen to me, and listen carefully. We have no idea if the people in there are still in danger or not. Azarov and I are going to try and find the others from our squad, you get in there and warn the others that they might be in grave danger. This is important, K███████. You've seen what this thing can do, pray you don't have to see what it can do again.' I nodded, and they took off down a side hallway, leading towards the general area where the maintenance hallway let out.
I continued, alone, into the reactor chamber. When I reached the door just outside of the chamber, I stopped and stood there, taking in the silence, the gentle hum of the reactor as the test began, and my brain finally began to attempt to catch up to what had happened in the last few minutes. I had seen someone die, been introduced to something almost wholly outside of my understanding, and was now being instructed to halt an official experiment in the name of saving a few lives at a small town's nuclear power plant. Now that I was alone, I was wondering if I actually was asleep, or perhaps even losing my mind. Were these soldiers just figures of my imagination? Was I having a vivid dream, and merely sleepwalking?
'K███████? What are you doing here?' I heard a voice challenge me; my boss, Pakovich! 'It's 1:23, Vadim, you're supposed to be at your post! What's gotten into you?' I was so disoriented, so confused, so overwhelmed. I had just heard a man be killed minutes earlier…or had I? Had all of that really happened? Or was I having a mental breakdown from a stressful day? I weakly, feebly tried to reply that the experiment was in danger, that something had broken in. 'If something's broken in, then you should have paged us about it while staying at your post, K███████. Come on, you should know better than this by now! Can't you see we're b-' His speech was cut off as the air vent above him suddenly seemed to burst open. She fell out of the air vent. She had climbed into the air vent after she had killed Kostikov, and she had gotten to the reactor room that way, and now Pakovich was being torn limb from limb as he screamed like a child.
What followed was chaos. Scientists screamed, the being shrieked and sparked, more people were killed and eviscerated, and the reactor was left unchecked. I froze; I didn't know what to do, or how to approach doing it. My eyes began to sting from tears. My breath hitched. I was unable to move. I was horrified, you see. I could see her chasing scientists and researchers and other various personnel on the other side of the chamber. There was just one other door in the room besides the one I was standing at, and she was standing between it and any personnel who could reach it, so they all began to flood towards the doorway I was in. She screamed, and began to follow after them. I connected the dots in my head. This wouldn't end well.
However, I needn't have worried, for just when she began to move, the door she had been guarding flew open, and T████████ emerged through, aimed his Makarov, and took a shot at her. She lurched, seeming to fall to the floor. 'Everyone out!' He yelled, putting another few rounds into her just for good measure. I finally got to moving, thinking the she-being dead, running over to those who were left alive and assisting them. One by one, I helped as many as I could.
But then, that damn emergency system kicked in.
This debacle of a confrontation had done so much damage to the facility that the security system had thought a break-in was in progress - which, granted, it technically was - and as such decided that the best course of action was to seal all of the exits. The sirens began blaring, arguing amongst the personnel and soldiers as to if we really should leave was indiscriminate and confusing, there were wounded, there were dead, and then the fucking she-beast woke up. The others didn't find out immediately, but I got a front-row seat to what happened.
I was trying to help a wounded scientist, and chanced a glance at the area where the reactor controls were. Someone had snuck in there in an attempt to shut the emergency systems down, and I watched with horror as she rose behind him quietly, and slowly built a growl into a scream. The man froze, turned to look at her, and I saw as her hand punched through his chest and reached out his back, his body beginning to smoke from the electricity being pumped into him. She then withdrew her hand and screamed again, and his corpse fell to the floor. So it was as I had feared…she wouldn't be killed so easily. Not by us, at least, but luckily, it appeared that she had signed her own death warrant.
I didn't entirely see what happened, but I know that after the man fell, the lights went out. Perhaps his hand had been on a switch when she had killed him, and the electricity had gotten into the system? Not a clue. But the lights first flickered, then seemed to brighten, making it as bright as day inside the facility for a number of seconds before the sound of shattering glass and surging electricity filled the room as the lights, one by one, shattered.
Dyatlov: And that was the power surge that triggered the explosion, you think?
K███████: The radiation burns which cover my body would suggest that, Mister Dyatlov.
K███████ smiles grimly.
K███████: In any case, yes, that was just before the time of the first explosion. There was barely enough time for everyone to get out of the room when the first explosion sounded off, but while some of the other soldiers escorted the remaining able-bodied scientists out, Azarov and T████████ turned back, going back to try and save some of the wounded. I followed, though I say it was more of me not knowing what I should do than anything else. And just like that…everything went silent, my ears having to suffer the pain of the loudest noise I've ever heard for a fraction of a second before silence reigned. Everyone who I could see was dripping with sweat. Boiling hot steam was filling the room. The night sky was visible above us, the one-ton upper plate of the reactor casing having been driven through the roof by the pressure of the steam.
Then the second explosion hit, and everyone was knocked to the floor. Corpses of the wounded lay bloody. My sight went black, and…well, when I woke up, I was being carried by T████████ down the hallway at a run. I saw Azarov running alongside for a moment or two, bloody vomit running down his chin and chest, before he was pulled back from something unseen behind us. I heard - and I use 'heard' loosely - him wail with pain and surprise as the being shrieked at her next victim. 'Stay with me, Vadim!' T████████ shouted as he carried me.
K███████'s demeanor shifts to a noticeably sadder tone, his eyes beginning to turn pink and shining with held-back tears.
K███████: T████████ had said to me…'You're going to be alright, Tovarisch. I promise you that much.'
K███████ sighs, his voice shaking with a sob.
K███████: May I have a moment, Mister Dyatlov?
Dyatlov: Of course, Vadim. Take as much time as you need.
K███████: Thank you.
K███████ spends the next few moments calming himself down, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes.
K███████: I…don't remember much of those moments. I was looking up into his eyes, but also looking past his face. The ceiling was flaming, parts of the structure would surely be coming down. His face was seared with steam burns. Blood was trickling from his ears and nose. He must have sustained a crippling dose of trauma, and yet he was still going, still doing his best to save lives, including mine. The shrieking and wailing from the being was getting quieter, and from a split-second glance into a door window as T████████ took me down the hallway, I could see that the she-beast was pinned under a flaming chunk of ceiling, wailing desperately as she attempted to claw her way out. For just a split second, I caught sight of her face, her sparking eyes, her burning hair, her seared skin, her pained facial expression…sometimes I still see that face, waiting for me in my dreams.
K███████ shudders. A nurse enters, informing Dyatlov that visiting hours are nearly over.
K███████: Ah, my apologies. It seems that Pravda won't be receiving a full story from me today…perhaps tomorrow?
Dyatlov: I believe I can wait until then, Tovarisch. They've been kind in giving me leeway with this piece.
K███████: Very well. Have a safe journey, Mr. Dyatlov.
Dyatlov: And you, a good night, Mr. K███████.
< END LOG >

Afterword: Following the interview, the Ward granted a request by Dyatlov to see K███████ the next day. Dyatlov knocked on the door a number of times before forcing the door open, only to discover the bloody, tattered remains of K███████. The Ward was informed of the tragedy, informing Dyatlov and other Psychotronics Division agents that there had been a freak electrical surge over the night, though it had lasted only a few moments.
The Ward's license has, at the time of this recording, been revoked, and patients have been transferred to the K█████████ Hospital in Moscow until further notice. Requests for interviews with other patients of the former Ward are pending approval at this time.
< END DOCUMENT 0401-42-3 >

SHOW DOCUMENT 0401-42-4

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Foreword: The following is a compilation of police reports from the city of Pripyat in the days following the incident at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, all of which report sightings of a person believed to be Object 0401-42. Reports have been doctored to omit nonessential information. This information was collected by V███████ Lentivenko, a GRU-P Agent and Informational Liaison embedded within the Pripyat Regional Militsiya.
Date recorded: 0█/0█/198█ - ██/0█/198█
< BEGIN DOCUMENT 0401-42-4 >
< DOCUMENT CLASS: INFORMATIONAL >

BEGIN REPORT 0714
Date: 0█/0█/198█
Complaint synopsis: Sighting reported of unidentifiable woman of apparent Asian racial characteristics near the M██████ Hotel. Subject was observed to be walking between the same two points in an alleyway for hours on end, attempting no communication with any passers-by.
Action taken: Patrol car containing two (2) personnel dispatched.
Result: Subject was nowhere to be found.

BEGIN REPORT 0736
Date: ██/0█/198█
Complaint synopsis: Sightings reported of humanoid figure stalking the edge of a treeline located █████-hundred (█00) meters from the K█████████ Schoolbuilding. Subject made no attempts to approach building, but would not leave the area. Caller was a woman working at the school, concerned for the safety of the children.
Action taken: Two (2) patrol cars dispatched with orders to apprehend suspect if possible.
Result: Subject was nowhere to be found. Patrol cars remained on scene until the end of the schoolday, escorting the children home.

BEGIN REPORT 0747
Date: ██/0█/198█
Complaint synopsis: Instances of angry growling, similar to that of a dog, heard outside of the ████-█████ Cinema. No stray dogs were known to live in the area, and all dog owners in the area claimed that their pets were inside that night. Numerous individuals reported being perturbed by the noises.
Action taken: Street section cordoned off, investigation launched, ███████ (██) Militsiya personnel and █████ (█) researchers being involved.
Result: Source of growling undetected. Instances reported to have ceased the next day.

BEGIN REPORT 0778
Date: ██/0█/198█
Complaint synopsis: Initial complaints reported lights flickering within the M██████ Hotel, subsequent reports complaining of clumsy maintenance work causing several loud bangs coming from the maintenance hallways. Hotel employees, when questioned, reported that all maintenance personnel were absent that night.
Action taken: Hotel occupants evacuated for several hours, thorough sweep of building by █████-█████ (██) personnel conducted.
Result: No signs of unusual presences concluded to exist. Hotel occupants allowed to re-enter building and return to their rooms.

BEGIN REPORT 0791
Date: ██/0█/198█
Complaint synopsis: Reports of a power outage, followed by loud, agonized yelling, reported by many inhabitants of M██████ Hotel the night following the sweep. Upon arrival of Militsiya personnel, a crime scene was discovered, the eviscerated corpse of a man identified as Konstantyn T████████ found in bed. Signs of struggle present. T████████'s neck was torn open, both arms sliced open from the base of the hand to the elbow, and approximately 68% of T████████'s facial skin was reported to be 'ripped off'. On the wall, Tôi còn sống, which translates roughly to "I still live" in Vietnamese, was written in blood, which matched that of T████████ when DNA tested.
Action taken: Hotel evacuated, personnel from the Pripyat General Hospital called to the scene. Body brought to coroner. Room quarantined until further notice. Crime scene investigation, comprising militsiya personnel and agents of the GRU, conducted.
Result: No conclusion as to the murderer's identity reached. Upon request from Executive Director Ivashutin, the GRU was given permission to quarantine the building and continue the investigation privately.

< END DOCUMENT 0401-42-4 >

SHOW DOCUMENT 0401-42-5

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Foreword: The following is a report filed by D██████ Chernov, Lead Investigator of GRU-P's Investigational and Informational Taskforce, in the aftermath of Pripyat Militsiya Report 0791, detailing the death of former GRU-P security personnel Efr. Konstantyn T████████.
Date recorded: 0█/0█/198█
< BEGIN DOCUMENT 0401-42-5 >
< DOCUMENT CLASS: INFORMATIONAL/CONCLUSIONARY >

Conclusionary report as to the status of Object 0401-42
DATE OF COMPILATION: 0█/0█/198█
LOCATION: M██████ Hotel, City of Pripyat, Kiev Oblast, Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
ANALYSIS: Comrades, we all by now know the extent to which 0401-42's containment breach has escalated. The incident has turned into a twofold crisis; the meltdown and explosions caused by 0401-42's presence at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant threaten to plague vast quantities of land of not just the Soviet Union, but also much of Europe, with nuclear particles carried across the continent by the shifting weather. Already, tens of thousands of personnel of the Soviet Army have been mobilized to contain the threat posed by the Chernobyl Nuclear Plant, but the citizens of Pripyat continue to live in informational isolation as to their perilous situation. This, on its own, is a travesty, but coupled with the presence of 0401-42, this could turn into a catastrophe the likes of which the world has never known.
We must acknowledge that our procedures of containment for 0401-42 were not as strong as they could, or indeed, should, have been. Mistakes were made along the entirety of the duration of her containment in Psychotronics Division facilities, ranging from physical abuse to emotional disregard and isolation. In some ways, it could be said that we treated her worse than she was treated by her captors in the Indochinese conflict over a decade prior to this incident. The resumption of testing on her capabilities, the exposure of her raw, traumatized, stressed psyche to the sounds of the war that had cost her countless loved ones, and the untimely and unprofessional execution of who she called Ban, is believed to have resulted in such profound emotional and psychological trauma that the full extent of her ability to harness her powers was realized. This, of course, led her to begin the vicious and murderous cycle which has cost the lives of an estimated ██████-████ (██) personnel, spread across the GRU-P, the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, and the ███th Motor Rifle Regiment.
RECOMMENDED COURSE OF ACTION: The Investigational and Informational Taskforce, having confided the preceding information, recommends a multitude of actions be taken immediately:
- Utter and total evacuation of the city of Pripyat until Object 0401-42 is confirmed terminated.
- Establishment of a Psychotronics Division-affiliated entity within the 'Liquidation' taskforce being formed by Soviet Army units at the Chernobyl site.
- Termination of aforementioned Object to be given Class-B prioritization. Should termination be deemed impossible or otherwise implausible, containment of 0401-42 to the area surrounding the abandoned city of Pripyat to be the new priority.
SIGNED: D██████ Chernov


“Three people have died from your exhibition.”
“They signed waivers.”
“I've got people breathing down my neck, here.”
“They all signed waivers. They knew what they were getting into, they were consenting adults.”
Ruiz Duchamp's latest exhibition was, he believed, his masterpiece. An installation that had taken him five months in total to construct, ‘wowwee go kill ursefl' was his homage to stupidity. He had jumped through so many hoops to absolve himself of responsibility, and yet he was still being slammed by The Man. It was ridiculous.
“They're demanding you get rid of the smallpox.”
One of the most popular parts of ‘wowwee' was ‘stab ursefl with nedles'. It was simply an open box containing needles with samples of the most virulent diseases and deadly poisons in the history of mankind. This was how one of the people had died, after wilfully injecting himself with a deadly dose of everything.
“I won't compromise the integrity of the piece to accommodate for morons.”
“You're going to have to. And the blades have to go too.”
The noisiest pieces in the hall, ‘shuv ur figners in blads no. 1-5', were simply high rotation carbon steel circular saws. They had been painted in bright, primary colours, but besides that, they were perfectly normal, and could easily remove a hand. Two hands had been wilfully removed by critics.
“There are warnings everywhere. The whole point of the piece is to put people in easily avoidable, but very real danger. If you recontextualise any of it, it's worthless.”
“Not good enough.”
“You're marching to the drum of The Man.”
“I'm trying to save people's lives.”
“You're trying to save idiots who shove their fingers into bloody saws.”
“THE NAME OF THE PIECE TOLD THEM TO!”
“Hell, at least I didn't name anything ‘jump off a bridge'. What a catastrophe that would have been.”
Every piece in the exhibit was designed to kill or, at the very least, grievously injure. The one fear that Ruiz had was that some particularly idiotic person would use them to kill or, at the very least, grievously injure another person. Fortunately, this had not yet occurred.
“We've already taken the C4 from you.”
“What? Nobody even used ‘press buten 4 firwroks', this is downright puritanical!”
“Safety comes first. You can't pull shit like this in my gallery.”
“You're ruining the vision. You saw it before.”
“The work's been recontextualised, the police weren't breathing down my fucking neck. You need to make everything safe or you need to get it out of here. I regret it, and you know I love the piece, but people are just too stupid for it.”
“THAT. IS. THE PURPOSE. OF THE WORK. If you're too stupid to not know to sit in an electric chair and pull the lever, it's your own damn fault. Their blood is my canvas.”
“I know. I get it. But get it somewhere else. Sorry.”
Ruiz was disappointed. He walked into his favourite room, passing the box of cyanide pills saying ‘Complementary, Please Take One'. He moved past the automatic countdown guillotines. He looked passively beyond ‘here paly wit thes knivs'. He had one piece that he'd been saving for a particularly disappointing event. He closed the airtight door, and breathed slowly. Everyone was a fucking idiot. Nobody got it. Nobody REALLY got it. As he turned the knob, liquid nitrogen sprayed across his scalp and flesh. His final thoughts were that it didn't matter. At least he got it. He really got it. And that was all he needed.
‘take shwoer 2 b cul'

« Hub | It Just Shattered »


Who am I? I wish I could just tell you.
Who am I? I am a curious god. I wanted to discover what made you mortals tick. I was surprised when I found that many of you were immortal. Whether you gained this through fame, through history, or through some other means, I do not know. I did meet a very interesting immortal though. He seemed to be a shapeshifter, and I would never see him with the same body twice. I was very interested in what you mortals are. Sadly, I had to return to my home. I left a few of my personal effects in your care. I didn't mean to, but it couldn't be helped.
Who am I? I am a vengeful god. I came to your pitiful plane to destroy and subjugate you. I brought artifacts from my home and let them infiltrate your system. They gathered information for me, which I then used to attack you. But you fought back. I retreated and had to find help. I asked another god whose existence was known to few, but his anger was known to all. When we attacked you again, you managed to defeat and capture my ally. You are a strong opponent, but I will defeat you. Expect my return and fear it.
Who am I? I am God. I have lost contact with you, my creations, over the past few centuries. I returned to see what happened. I chose a venue that best represented what humanity is. Love and hate, fear and faith, war and peace, dedication and apathy, death and life all condensed into a single organization. I spent quite some time there, studying humanity, but now I have left. I understand that I will no longer be a supreme power on earth. My time is over, but I'll still watch on occasion.
Who am I? I'm from another reality. I'm like your own 507, randomly appearing in various realities and dimensions. Evidently in this reality, I worked for the Foundation. This reality was nice, I liked it. But, as my nature forces me to, I was moved to another dimension. I find strange objects in my travels, from reality to reality, but I had gathered too many to keep all at once. I filed them away as SCP objects, but I plan on returning to take them to a better and safer place.
Who am I? I am a foolhardy computer genius. I sit at my computer all day, being a dick on various forums, and trolling in various games. I have an extensive knowledge when it comes to computers, and I may have hacked one or two in my day. I found a few of your documents, after an attack from one of your enemies left a hole for me to breach. I thought it'd be funny to add my name to a few of the reports. I even added a fictitious one about an invincible man.
Who am I? I am a sleeper agent. I worked for the Chaos Insurgency, or whatever you're calling us these days. I was given my job and then sent as bait to your Foundation. You quickly snapped me up and gave me a good position. Over time, I gained responsibility. I waited and waited, until our little fuzzy courier activated me. Once activated, I grabbed what I could, took any information I found, and left.
Who am I? I am an O5. I was a doctor at one point in my life. I researched Scips, I did experiments, and I risked my life in the name of safety and science. I worked my way up through the ranks, until the day I was killed. Or promoted. Or whatever you want to call it. I tragically died in a lab experiment gone wrong. The next day, I woke up in an office. I was led to a computer, and they gave me a briefing on what I was, who I was, and what I had to do. Anyone who had ever known me went through selective memory therapy to get rid of any memory of me. They edited documents to expunge or delete my name, but they did miss a few.
Who am I? I am a prank. A few of the rookie researchers thought it would be funny to stick my name on a few documents. They did this for many years. They all got promoted to various positions. One even got promoted to a site director. He decided that it would be a hoot to give this fake doctor an actual office. The O5s learned about this and sent him on his way. They never removed my name from any of the documents though. I have no idea why.
Who am I? I am Ethical. I worked and toiled for many years with little thanks given in return. I was later given a rather large project. While working on the project, nothing seemed to go my way. Chemicals spilled, items were misplaced, incorrect products were delivered. I almost gave up. I eventually finished the project with acceptable results. I gave the results to my superior, and he told me that I was being moved for unknown reasons. I was shipped to some place in France. There, I was told that I had been accepted into the Ethics Committee, and that one project was my test. I'll be damned if I can figure out what that project had to do with Ethics, but I'll live with it. Since I was now with the Ethics Committee, my name was stripped from the official records, my office was cleared, and anyone who knew me forgot me due to the Committee's memory selection process.
Who am I? I am an urban legend of sorts. Whenever something went wrong in an experiment, I was the one who caused the problem. Granted, I didn't exist, but humans always like having a scapegoat. I drifted from site to site. Sometimes, I was even in multiple areas at once. I was a diligent, but clumsy, worker in some places, and a demon in others. They say that over time, a myth can become reality if enough people believe in it. I was just such a case. Sometimes, in quiet laboratories, I would whisper in the lone scientist's ear. Or maybe, I would accidentally knock a vial over. I would switch the order of sheets in a person's hand, or put my name on a document. I took pictures with people, and sometimes had one-sided conversations with people. It was all great fun. Sadly, higher-ups heard wind of my antics, and put a stop to it.
Who am I? I am nothing. I was just a regular doctor trying to neutralize a dangerous object. The object's defense mechanism kicked in, and both me and the object ceased to exist. Life's a bitch, but I'll get over it.
Who am I? I am Dr. Gideon, SCP-431. I worked for the Foundation, but I never worked for them. I was a really nice guy, if I existed. I paid my taxes and was paid with money that never existed. I worked hard on projects that were never started, and on a few that did. I befriended people who never knew me. I posed for pictures that were never taken. I am an anomaly. I shouldn't exist, yet I do. I exist in your files, and in the impossible corners of reality, nowhere else.
Who am I? I don't know.


"Good day, this is "Successful Cooperation and Partnership" training center, we would like to…"
That was where I hung up.
I know that's impolite. It's their job, yada yada - hell, a couple of months ago I'd gladly have heard the girl out and declined their services politely. But now…
Guess that's persecution complex at its finest. My colleagues keep telling me to go to a health resort for a couple of days, but I'll be damned if it's not called "Serenity. Calmness. Peace." And that gets us back to the point.
This is the third call today. Not that I'm very busy, but Sunday is my only day free of work and I just want to get some peace while eating premade products in front of my TV, not entertaining all kinds of jerks.
Anyway, there's something fishy about it all.
First "Sam's Chili and Pepperoni". Flooding my mailbox with their leaflets was not enough, so today they decided to give me a call. Guys, your sign board is as tasteless as your food, and it's right in front of my window! Stop pestering me.
And their food sucks. I paid them a visit once, swore like a sailor in the end. And they're to blame. Next day, they are expanding, and setting their new shop right across the road from my office. These guys don't seem to be affected by curses.
That's half the trouble anyway. Might as well not take the call from "Shooters, Cartridges & Partridges" into account, they're calling for a second time. Their first call was about a week ago, when it all began.
What did begin? Didn't you notice already?
SCP. SCP. SCP.
Can't these guys think of anything smarter, or more inventive? Or is it a "drive the sucker crazy" marathon? Or… I don't even want to think about what else it can be.
Of course I did my research. All of these are perfectly valid legal entities, doing fine, doing cold calls. It's just that they didn't phone the same guy at the same time until now.
It even sounds absurd. "Hey, listen, I keep getting calls. And the abbreviation's the same, you know, the first letters… What? Why did I write them down? Well, uh…" And off to the madhouse I go. Wouldn't even be surprised if its name were "Sanctuary for Crushed Psyches". Eww.
Maybe I'm really unraveling. Time to go for a walk.
It was no better outside, still. So I went to a shop. A nice shop, with a funny, colorful sign… at least, it was. They were dismantling it just as I arrived. Only "Grocery" remained from what was "Grocery open constantly". Seems like things are turning ugly for the guys. A shame. It was a nice place, with decent prices. Now the prices are sure to rise.
All in all, utter disappointment. Barely escaped being done in by a truck on my way back. Took a second look - "Sushi, Crab & Perch". Friggin' delivery service. Must be my swanky neighbor ordering the stuff.
"Perch"! Who the hell uses freshwater fish to make sushi…
That's it, screw everything. I'm taking some days off, I'm going to the resort no matter how it's named. Otherwise I'm dangerously close to the aforemented madhouse. But hey, at least they will stop pestering me there, right?
* * *
…Subject has a positive influence over the operation of any enterprise that he has negative feelings towards. Such enterprise experiences an increase in productivity, labor efficiency increase was noted in all cases. Positive feelings result in an inverse effect. (…) Current recommendations are to create a vague negative image of the Foundation in subject's mind. Using the subject to contain competing groups of interest is forbidden.