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Description: SCP-2715 is an eighteen-year-old Brazilian-American female originating from ███████, Oregon. Subject displays a near-complete immunity to all types of biotoxic substances. Approximately two (2) hours after ingestion of a biotoxin, SCP-2715 will begin sneezing uncontrollably, releasing the ingested biotoxin into the surrounding area in the form of airborne particles. Breathing the ejected particles will result in strong negative reactions in line with those for the substance ingested, but notably more severe. Methods of inducing this reaction are limited to oral intake; any other means of introduction (e.g. injection) will be processed normally by the subject's body and cause effects consistent with normal human intake of the substance.
SCP-2715 came to the Foundation’s attention after ████ ██████, the son of the president of ███████, contracted an illness and died during the Fifteenth Les Âmes Libres Gala in France. Two days after the event, SCP-2715 sought out undercover Foundation personnel and admitted to having anomalous abilities that she had used to carry out ████ ██████’s assassination. Further questioning revealed that she had been operating in service of the Chaos Insurgency for several years, and wished to leave after Insurgency agents threatened her family with [DATA EXPUNGED] when she refused to comply with their demands.
SCP-2715 was taken into custody shortly thereafter and has since been cooperative in her containment.
Addendum 2715-3/16/██: As of 3/16/██, SCP-2715's mother and sister have not been located. This information is not to be made available to SCP-2715 in order to maintain her emotional well-being. False information regarding SCP-2715's capture has also been disseminated to Insurgency operatives to discourage retaliation against extended relations.
Addendum 2715-4/3/██: Since initial containment, SCP-2715 has consistently shown symptoms of post-traumatic stress. This is presumed to be a result of the subject's time with the Chaos Insurgency, though this has not been confirmed. Semi-regular appointments with Site 47's therapist are recommended.
+ Journal Excerpts 4/6/██ - 7/23/██ Dr. ████ said that writing things down might help with the nightmares. It'll be like a letter, since I know he'll be reading it. I don't mind. The last time I had privacy, I was wearing Hello Kitty shirts and playing that stupid DS.
It's weird, but I've been feeling a lot better since they stuffed me into this cell.
I don't have to worry about Aaron or Sellie. Assholes. Sellie was the worst.
She hated my guts from the moment I walked in there, even when I was normal. I think she thought of me as inferior or something. Inferior to her and the guys that had always been weird, not modified like me.
Well, she can suck a dick. I'm safe and she's the one who's being chewed out for letting me get captured.
Bored to hell half the time. Been trying out meditation. I'm pretty bad at it. All I can think about is Mike's dumb face. Kind of defeats the point of meditation if you keep thinking about the person who threatened to condemn your family to a fate worse than death.
The more time I spend here, the more I think, and the more I think, the more I blame myself. It wasn't about money, it was about being dissatisfied. I was bored with real life. I wanted something else.
Well, I got what I wanted, didn't I?
I remember when I got out of surgery. I was walking around all weird, and my mouth was dry from the cotton they'd stuffed it with so I wouldn't bite my tongue. But I was so excited. I'd become a superhero, a tiny, twelve-year-old superhero. It was like being high. I've never been high, but I think that's what it'd be like. And it persisted even after the anesthetic wore off, so I knew it was genuine. It was the best feeling I'd ever had, and I never want to experience anything like it again.
The first man I killed was a political leader from Africa, about half a year after the surgery. They didn't give me any details, but I heard rumors he was getting fed up with Insurgency policy. So I downed my pills, lured him into his bathroom, and killed him. They put a new dictator in his place, one that agreed to do everything they wanted. Same shit, different day.
They told me I was doing good. My mom always said that the most addictive drug is heroin, but it's not. The most addictive drug is superiority.
They wanted me to kill some politician's son at the gala. I don't know why.
████, I think his name was. He was sixteen. He died in his bed, with my head resting on his chest. I felt him go cold, got up, put on my bathrobe, and ran out into the ballroom screaming bloody murder. I'd practiced that. His mother looked like she'd been shot.
I felt nothing, and that scared me. What do you tell yourself after that? "Oh, so sorry you killed that guy who'd done absolutely nothing to deserve it, now what about those tens of other corpses who were probably good people at heart?" I'd locked those feelings away in favor of complete and utter apathy.
Aaron found me in the courtyard when I was supposed to be at base. I had done a pretty good job of holding back my tears up until that point, but when I saw him, everything just started pouring out. He helped me get up and back to base. I thought he'd be understanding.
I got called to Mike's office the day after. He always put on a neutral face when he was about to do something really awful. He was staring at me, and I was staring at the sins reflected in those dark sunglasses. He asked me if I loved my sister. I told him that of course I did. He just looked at me. We both understood the threat.
I don't know what I was thinking when I left. I was only taking a walk around base.
I kept walking.
I kept walking straight out the front doors and the alarms sounded and Aaron started running at me. I started running too. I kept running even when Aaron had stopped, miles away.
I stopped at a building. I'd seen that building before, and was told to steer clear of it. Nobody'd ever told me why. But I started to understand when I saw the phrase "Sally's Computer Products" plastered onto the window. I mean, I may not be the brightest knife in the shed, but nobody can miss a cue that big. I walked in, told the guy at the desk not to shoot me, and I guess things went from there.
The researchers tell me Mom and Kelsey are alright. I hope it's true.
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