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Trust me, Declan.

The Outback Sends Its Regards

Michael had been on the road for hours. His tires had now worn from the stress of gravel pits and broken tarmac. The light from the moon barely made a dent in the environment around him, the headlights from his car the only source for illuminating the road ahead. He was too tired to do this, make another delivery to a school in the north of Queensland by the following morning. It was a near impossible task, not without sacrificing the basic necessity of sleep.

Hey, he loved Australia as much as the next boomerang wielding, slogan shouting, barbecuing bogan. But looking out the cracked screen of his car and seeing the same dry, dusty, uninhabitable land for days on end; it takes its toll on anyone. With at least a small shred of hope and maybe some caffeine, he could make it to Yaraka before the sun rises.

With another swig of coffee mixed with a bag of hot chips, he jerked the wheel to the left, speeding down a road that made dirt feel like a luxury. The car rattled and squeaked with each uneven pile of rocks that laid the track. Michael pushed down on the accelerator, trying to get above 80 kilometres per hour. And if his calculations were correct, which were always are, he could get to Yaraka within the hour.

The night was ending soon, as the cries of curlews and cockatoos echoed past him like the horn of a freight train. No, wait, that was a freight train. Michael rubbed his eye and shook his head, jolting his brain to a semi alert state. God, this lack of sleep was making him worse for wear. He could now see a sign for Yaraka in the distance, with another sign of a kangaroo next to it.

30km to Yaraka
Watch for Kangaroos!

Oh yeah, how could he forget? Kangaroos were a staple of Australia since the early settlers stepped foot on this country. Without them, many people wouldn’t of given Australia the time of day, let alone even want to settle and create a superpower out of it.
“Kangaroos are weird aren’t they? Giant sacks of muscle that hop around to be hit by cars. Target practice more like.”

Michael laughed at his own terrible joke. A coping mechanism he developed from driving the open stretches of road he found himself on, or if he wasn’t driving, just laughing to pass the time. He checked the time on the dashboard, and then remembered that he didn’t have a clock to check.

He sped past the signs with a trail of dust thrown behind him, unaware of the animal corpses that his tires just bumped over, a common sight to be found on roads in the Outback, or so Michael was told. The car began to sputter and wheeze, smoke spewing out of the bonnet and exhaust. Michael ignored it. The car was younger than he was, and was frankly pathetic for its age. Three years after production and it starts wheezing like a pug. Great.

Michael took his foot off the accelerator and tapped the brake. The car rolled to a stop right next to a ditch, a fitting grave for any creature, especially humans. Michael went to unlock the doors. If the prevention of robbery needed the inconvenience of unlocking doors, Michael was all for it. He jiggled the handle and the door made no effort to open. Grunting, he jiggled and pushed the door as hard as he could, and it still did not open. Michael prayed that he didn’t end up permanently trapping himself.

“Stubborn piece of..”

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but to no avail. His laughing technique wasn’t working either, for his breathing rate had become too rapid. He reached over the passenger door and pulled the handle. That door didn’t budge either, like it was stuck with superglue. Michael dug his fingers into his scalp and cursed. If he didn’t call that mechanic a stuck up bastard for overcharging him, then maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t of had this problem in the first place!

He fished for the phone in his pocket and dialed his roadside assistance company, otherwise known as his best friends. Maybe Michael could get them to tow his car when they inevitably pass by. Hopefully. After three rings, the call was redirected to an automated voice message. Michael decided to leave a reasonably firm and somewhat desperate message to have his car picked up. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and laid the side of his head on the steering wheel, thankful that his horn didn’t work.

The view outside was nothing to gawk at though, the barren desert and dull rock formations made the urge to sleep difficult to ignore. How come every time he was in dire situation, it involved a desert? They were so boring for a setting of any plot, hell, even action films knew the desert was a terrible and frankly depressing place. After a few minutes, a small grey kangaroo hopped up to the window, looking like a mindless hitchhiker that ask for rides during traffic jams.

Deciding that he had nothing better to do, and that the tow truck would probably take a few hours at most, he sat back in his seat and rolled down the window. The kangaroo seemed to be tame, at least compared to the ones he saw on TV. Now that he thought about it, Michael had never seen a kangaroo in the wild before, the sight was surreal considering his current situation. Ignoring the pile of smoke surrounding the car, he reached out and tried to pet the furry animal. The kangaroo jumped back with fright and fled, squeaking with each hop. Scowling, Michael rolled the window back up and sat further in his seat, he just wanted to pet it, he wasn’t going to kill it or anything. At least he hoped he wouldn’t have to kill one, the thought of a kangaroo carcass in his bumper grill made him queasy.

A sharp pain prodded the back of his head, like someone had just poked him with a needle. Of course now of all times a migraine would make his life all the more torturous. Taking a small sip of water, he imagined himself beating the ever loving Christ out of the migraine. Was this another coping mechanism? He wasn’t so sure.

The migraine, however, decided to pulsate like a consistent drum beat. Scowling once again, he tried to find some medication to ease the pain. But of course he threw out all his tablets after he cleaned out the car yesterday. Life was kicking him hard in the balls today.

He winced as a pulse of unnatural pain shot through the front of his skull. God, he really needed those tablets, or a cigarette, that would do to. He mimicked the gesture of a smoker for a few minutes; the only time he can experience a cigarette is after he 'quits'. By this time, the first few rays of the sun had started to rise over the horizon, warming up the already humid desert sand.

Figures began to emerge from the sunlight, drenched in shadow. Michael compared them to shadow monsters from those waking dreams people have. Maybe he was having one now, who knows? As he watched the figures grow in number and become more defined in shape, he realised just what those shadows were.


Kangaroos. Kangaroos everywhere. They all faced him. They were behind him, beside him, and even above him! Michael slammed his head against the driver side window a few times to make sure he was sane, and then a few more for good measure. This was too freaky to see, even for him.

“Please tell me it’s just a mirage, for god's sake it has to be a mirage.”

Another pulse of pain in the back of his head threw the man forward, slumping him against the steering wheel. His body was like a rag doll, eyes wide and unblinking. The kangaroos got closer to the car, now baring their teeth and squealing like pigs in a slaughterhouse. Michael tried to move, but only got screams of pain as a result. As the darkness greeted him in his last state of consciousness, a furry claw scratched a long, methodical line down the window, cracking it.

“Oh lord.”

Michael Sends His Regards »


Doctor Bishop had a little ritual. A crack of the wrist, a minute adjustment of the spectacles, and a breathing pattern―two seconds in, one second out. This little ritual would be performed before an interview, with this particular interview being a special one. It’d be the first interview without a supervisor. Suffice to say, he was damn nervous.

After this, it would be a relaxing end day, with just a few routine tests on the anomaly he was scheduled to work on. Seemed easy enough. But then again, trying to keep a bunch of brash, intelligent, and hostile kangaroos somewhat docile was a challenge in its own right. Even with the recent advances in technology, they couldn’t get close to the nature reserve where the kangaroos resided, not without ensuring mass panic and provoking a coordinated attack from what were essentially muscles on legs.

Bishop sighed. This was going to be an adventure, he was sure of it. Picking up an audio recorder and a list of questions taped to a clipboard, he looked over the file attached to the list. Another unlucky victim of the anomalous effects of SCP-3502, and from the looks of it, he was quite traumatised too. He didn’t want to use anmestics on the poor bastard, but it was standard procedure, and any standard procedure was his procedure.

The doctor opened the ironclad door and saw the man, his head on the table and his arms flopped, swinging like a pendulum. The man looked unwashed, dirt in every crack and wrinkle on his skin and clothes, and his hair in a complete mess. Bishop didn’t even want to see what his beard looked like. Maybe if he told him to keep his head down, he wouldn’t have t― and it was too late. Bishop held back a gag as he saw the wet clump of what was presumably the beard of this unkempt man.

“Hello Michael, I’m Doctor Bishop, part of the Queensland Police. I’m here to ask you a few questions, is that okay?”

Bishop fought every urge in his body to run when Michael nodded. His eyes, they were bulged out like a bloody cartoon. Bishop tried to regain his composure and sat down. Professionalism is key, the human race would be doomed otherwise. The man tracked the doctor’s every movement from the moment he started recording the conversation. Maybe Bishop could ask for a weak amnestic to forget this interview and just listen to the audio.

“Right, now that we’ve got a yes, we can now start this interview. Great! First things first, your name and your date of birth.”

If Bishop thought the man’s looks were jarring, his voice was a whole other thing. It was a mix between a chronic smoker and someone who just swallowed the world's supply of gravel and sand.

“Hm. Thought you guys had that already. Guess I was wrong. Michael Palmer, June 12th, 1946.”

This is going to drag out, isn’t it?

“So, that means you're 68?”

“Yeah, so? Not like I get to keep meself pretty these days.”

“Fair, fair." Bishop flipped over to the next page, making a mental note to not space out his questions so much. "Let’s keep going, I don’t have many questions. Next one is the incident itself, do you remember anything about what happened? Any unusual persons, objects, animals? ”

The man shifted in his seat, making Bishop grip the clipboard just a little bit harder. Taking a deep breath, the man leaned back and stretched his arms, a sickening crack of his knuckles making the doctor flinch.

“I can tell you what happened. Not sure I really believe myself. Lots is foggy, for me, now, but this isn't. This isn't.”

Bishop crossed his legs. “Hm, okay. Interesting. Just tell me the parts you remember the most then.”

The man seemed to be unnaturally calm about this situation. Bishop decided he couldn’t take any chances. He hovered his finger under the table, where a button laid. A small push and an amnestic would spray them both, with no harm apart from a 12 hour gap in memory. The wonders of modern technology.

“Fine, if you really need it. I was driving out to Yaraka, grabbing stuff, you know. I get this… bloody migraine that feels like someone kept stabbing me with a needle. Next thing I know there’s kangaroos absolutely everywhere, and they all faced me, it was like a fucking horror film. One of them cracked my window, with its claw!" The man held his head in his hands. "All my stuff was in there, my life was in that car! And now it’s gone!”

The man made a gesture akin to nails down a chalkboard, with added sound effects for good measure. Bishop tried to keep his professional face on when confronted with such behaviour, but it wavered slightly when the man burst into tears in front of him. This was a good time to end the interview.

“Okay, okay. Michael, from what I can see you have some fuzzy memories, and I’m sorry about that. When they found you, you were on the side of the road dying of heatstroke. Look, I’ll get this put in the report and have it investigated, will that make you better?”

Bishop pressed the button underneath the table and stood up.

“I’ll get someone to escort you out. It’s been a pleasure, have a good day.”

He shut the door just as the gas seeped in from the floor tiles. Bishop threw the papers on the desk in front of him, and pulled out a chair. The effects of the gas were almost instant, with the man starting to slip in and out of consciousness. In a few minutes, his memory would be nothing but static.

The hand phone on the desk rang, and Bishop picked it up.


“Nathaniel, it’s Amil from down the hall, do you know where the papers for 3502 are?”

“You need to be more specific, you mean the tests, the articles, the archives, or what?”

A long, hard sigh came from the receiver.

“The tests, you nitwit! You know damn well which ones I need!”

“Oh. Uh, they should be by your desk drawers, I think.”

The dial tone indicated a very pissed off Amil. No surprise there.

Bishop turned to the interview room. The man was nowhere to be seen. The gas was long gone by now. Of course, the one second his back is turned, the man just so happens to disappear right in front of his eyes. He didn't want to fear the worst, but his mind decided to go against his wishes. He pushed the door open and went through the standard procedures.

Make sure they’re not dead.

Ask if they’re okay.

Provide a cover story.

Additional steps may be included as necessary.

A wave of dread made him freeze in place. The heavy breathing behind him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Oh no."

A solid arm slid around his neck and tightened. Bishop thrashed and pulled trying to scream, but could only let out small gurgles. He swung the attacker off his feet, but the man had an iron grip, and shifted his weight to accommodate. Bishop couldn't see the attacker, but he had a pretty good idea who it was.

Bishop twisted his hip and threw the man against the wall. A piece of tile cracked and fell to the ground with a clang; it was as long as the blade of a kitchen knife. His suspicions turned correct, it was Michael. But there was something different. This wasn't Michael; his eyes were almost pure white from where Bishop was standing, and he was growling like a pack animal. Snatching the fractured tile, Michael roared and jabbed upwards, missing the doctor by a good inch.

Bishop tried to push Michael's chest, but merely swatted the attacker's hand away. Michael went in for another strike as Bishop held up one of the chairs from the interview. The tile pierced the soft leather-back and knocked the doctor's spectacles. Bishop made a run for the door, but was pulled back by the sleeve of his jacket. His head was all over the place, trying to focus in what went wrong with the amnesia process, and in an instant he remembered what Class A amnestics did. There was no way this should be happening, Class A amnestics induce sedation and nausea, not aggression! Bishop pulled away and threw off his jacket.

“Security! Security!”

They ended up on opposite sides of the table, Michael standing between Bishop and the door. The doctor tried to move left, but Michael followed. He tried to move right, but Michael followed as well. Bishop tried to coax the attacker into going left while he went right, but Michael didn't budge. As the doctor went to jump across one of the interview chairs, Micheal shot across the table and went in for the kill.

Within seconds, it was over.

Bishop’s body lay where Michael’s chair was, writhing and screaming in agony. A line of blood slithered along the edge of the jagged tile.

“Next time you get up, I’ll break yer legs, you government fuck!”

Bishop held his hand against his eye, unable to move as the man raced out the door, barging past facility staff. A group of guards rushed by after him, while another group of armed personnel came to the doctor’s aid. As the door alarm for the faux police station rang out, Bishop’s last state of consciousness gave him two words to think about before the blackness greeted him.

Oh lord…

«The Outback Sends Its Regards


“Another day, another bloody training exercise.”

Alpha swung the locker door open and took in the new smell of dirt encrusted clothes and dented helmets. He didn’t bother to wash them this time; they would only get dirty again in a few hours. With the effort of a couch bound potato, he dressed himself in the standard gear provided for most security personnel within the Foundation, and to no one’s surprise, his gun had mysteriously vanished.

“Ugh, I hate this place.”

Alpha’s partner leaned around the corner of a wall, already geared up for the road ahead.

“What’s the matter, Densil?”

“Fucking gun’s gone missing!”

Alpha’s partner gave him a weird look and went over to his own locker. Alpha didn’t really like Delta for all it was worth. He was younger than the rest and lacked the experience needed for this kind of job; he couldn’t even fire a gun when he got drafted. Alpha liked to call him ‘B1’ from a TV show he watched about a pair of talking bananas in evening wear..

“Well, mine’s here. Maybe you left yours at the firing range.”

Alpha slipped on his helmet, and pulled the one-way visor up. “Then I’ll get Cameron to grab it, we’re already late.”

As if fate had determined it, Cameron thrust open the door, wielding two large assault rifles. Alpha groaned. Cameron was the straight man to the team’s arguments and shenanigans, if you could call them that. With his trademark navy blue helmet, as opposed to the standard black design, he turned to Alpha and Delta.

“I’m guessing one of these is Densil’s?”

“Yes, that one’s mine, give me it!”

With an exchange of hands Alpha got his firearm back; a very special firearm as well, one designed to switch between lethal and non lethal ammo. Furthermore, while the rest of the team had rubber and lead ammunition, Alpha had darts: one to amnesticise, and one to euthanize. Morbid, he had to admit, but it was better to think that there was a chance that the drugs wouldn’t work rather than know that a bullet would end the target’s life almost immediately.

“Once you guys are ready I’ll be at the firing range with Bravo, we gotta move quickly. Oh, and remember, code names only now.”

“Yes, Charlie.” Alpha and Delta said in unison.

Delta went back to his locker and sorted out the piles of paper that called it their home. Alpha never really understood why he kept them, unless they were reminders, and if that was the case then Bravo and Delta had something to hide; Alpha called Bravo the 'B2' of the pair. Alpha snickered and began loading his gun with both rounds of darts, making sure that each one went to the correct slot.

“Hey, Alpha? Sorry if this seems stupid, but which training exercise are we doing today?”

God this was going to be a long day.

Summoning all his willpower, Alpha managed to turn to Delta bearing a straight face.

“We are going to kill some kangaroos. If you read the statement from earlier, then you would have known that they’ve been coming closer to our research site. We have to make sure they back off. They've got human intelligence after all, they should know to take the hint.”

“But couldn’t we just let them run around and not kill any of them?”

Alpha was ready to sucker punch the optimistic prick. “If we leave them alone, then the kangaroos will find us, see what we're doing, and then kill us! They are more of them then there are of us. Does that make sense now?”

“I guess, yeah. Let’s go!”

With a turn of the heel, Delta waltzed out the door to meet up with the rest of the group. Alpha followed suit.

By the time they got to the range, Bravo and Charlie had set up the rest of their gear, and had just finished emptying their ammo clips at the paper targets.

“Finally. Alright, here’s what we need to do.” Charlie cracked his fingers. “Bravo and I are going to head east of the compound, look for signs of kangaroo activity and neutralise them on sight. While this is going on, Delta and Alpha will head west and look only for any small settlements of wildlife. They are to find a settlement that pertains to the kangaroo population, they are to destroy it. If we are to encounter any unauthorised persons, we'll escort them out, and amnesticise them if needed. Any questions?”

The group shook their heads.

“Great, lets go. We should be back by 1pm at the lates-”

A blood curdling scream echoed through the halls, amplified by the concrete that laid the room around them. Delta looked at Alpha, who looked at Bravo, who then looked to Charlie. The commander only had to point to the door and open his mouth.

“Go. NOW!”

A fuckwit.

Michael was a fuckwit and he knew it.

As the police station shrank in the distance, followed by the black figures the police force, he knew he couldn’t turn back. Why the fuck did he do that? Jab a whole tile straight in the doctor’s face? He could be dead now because of him. All because of what could have been a misunderstanding.


No. No, that wasn’t a misunderstanding. There was the smell of gas and he knew it, that doctor was too quick to leave, and there was no way that click of a button wasn’t clearly heard by everyone within the next town over! They were trying to gas him, and he wasn’t going to let them kill him just yet!

A bullet bounced off a section of road and grazed Michael's back. With a cry he collapsed like a sack of potatoes, with the guards aiming their weapons and barking orders. Michael couldn’t hear, gunshots ringing in his ears. One guard snatched him up by the scruff of his neck pulled him up on his knees, the rifle centered on his forehead. Michael recognised the gun, it was a G36 assault rifle, modified to house larger rounds. Judging by the size of the barrel, they were large enough to blow the top half of his skull.

“Delta, Bravo, Charlie, standby…”


Michael braced himself, eyes shut tight. His time was up. He fucked up and he was going to pay the price for it. Run now and he would die a coward; stay and accept his fate and he would die being a nobody. No arrest was necessary for his acts of sin. For the acts of sin, in his eyes, were sins he could never live down

The assault rifle coughed, and Michael felt metal pierce his neck. The pain was mild, yet sharp. A dart anchored itself in a major artery and began its work. The liquid filled Michael’s skin, making him scream like a howling dog.

The drugs made Michael fell forward, facing the endless bush. The amnestics worked their way through his blood stream, piercing the blood brain barrier. Within minutes, his memory of the last day would be a blur of colour and sound. Between the dead roots and tree branches, where the Outback mocked the patheticness of Michael's fate, stood a Red Kangaroo.

Oh no… No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Not at a time like this, not right now. Literally any other time, Michael could be beaten to death by a Red Kangaroo, but not while he was pinned by several armed guards with automatic weapons. That bastard, that piece of kangaroo shit! If that sack of fur and piss didn’t crack his window and ransack his car, he wouldn’t be here right now. He would be in Yaraka, on time, with supplies, and with a very happy boss.

The Kangaroo stared at him with its black eyes, as if it was trying to kill him with its thoughts alone. It made a squeak. Every guard snapped their heads in its direction. Their weapons centered on the roo’s head, the laser sight visible from Michael's position.

Great. Have the bloody roo get the last laugh, that’ll look great on my resume.
‘Local man laughed at by kangaroo as he gets drugged by police’. Why can’t you leave me alone and have me die in peace, you ginger motherfucker?!

The roo didn’t flinch, or even twitch its ears as the rifles lasers crawled along the chest area and rested on the head.

Wait, what the hell are you guys doing? Don’t kill the bloody thing, it’s done nothing wrong. What the fuck is wrong with you guys?

The guards stood in a square formation, Delta and Alpha in the front, Bravo and Charlie in the back; it was a tactical maneuver that mirrored a SWAT team. A very low budget SWAT team, but a SWAT team nonetheless.

“Weapons free! Alpha, switch to lethal!”

In a flash the roo bounced over and sliced Alpha's chest open, his screams catching the team off guard. The roo leaped off the falling body and leaped into the bushes, narrowly avoiding the sudden volley of bullets directed into the trees.


Alpha coughed and spat blood from his mouth, barely holding on his life. The team surrounded Alpha's body, ignoring Michael's attempts to communicate. Delta knelt beside him and held his fingers against the side of Alpha's neck. Delta's look changed from concern to fear.

"His pulse, it's slowing down."

Bravo heard a snap in the bushes and turned to it. He tapped Charlie, who turned and aimed his rifle and scanned the area of the sudden noise. The roo burst from the undergrowth behind them, its claws outstretched. The animal swung and crushed Bravo’s helmet with its paw; the sickening crack of the neck bone signified death had taken another.

Before Charlie could react, a skull thrust itself into his jaw, snapping his head back; multiple cracks indicated a painful death. Delta rushed over and swung his rifle at the roo’s skull, and landed a successful hit. The roo recoiled and held its jaw in pain. Delta went in for another strike when the roo caught his rifle. Delta held the trigger and sprayed its thick leg area, the weak point.

The roo looked down at him and gave him the animal equivalent of a smile. It scratched the wounded area and loosened the bullets trapped in its hide. Delta gasped. The roo dragged him with an iron grip to the trees on the side of the road.

The roo didn't even give him time to scream.

The drugs had finally induced their intended effect of unconsciousness, but held out just long enough for Michael to see the whole scene take place, with the roo dragging its feet toward him. Like a witness to a serial murder, Michael knew he was done for.

His last state of consciousness allowed Michael to make a small vocalisation. A vocalisation that would echo throughout the deep recesses of his mind.

“Oh Lord.” SCP-XXXX before containment. 01/06/20██



Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be contained in the 50 hectare nature reserve that was purchased by the foundation. The road containing SCP-XXXX must be closed during the first 2 weeks of every month for standardized testing and containment of SCP-XXXX, under the guise of road maintenance. A barb wired perimeter fence is to surround the nature reserve to deter trespassers during testing.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a road sign located near Route ██ in ████████, Midwestern United States. SCP-XXXX features an icon of a black kangaroo on a diamond yellow background, commonly found in rural regions of Australia. The anomalous effects of SCP-XXXX activate on a monthly basis, usually from the 3rd to the ███ of every month. When a driver goes past the sign in a vehicle, the driver will experience loss of consciousness within 30-60 seconds with blunt force trauma to the head. After the vehicle ceases movement, SCP-XXXX will generate an instance of SCP-XXXX-1 to SCP-XXXX-10, each corresponding to how many are present. SCP-XXXX-1 is an individual kangaroo with above average intelligence that appears as an anomalous effect from SCP-XXXX. These entities will proceed to hijack the vehicle and forcibly remove the occupant. The vehicle will then be driven to a location within the nature reserve. GPS tracking show vehicles being transported as far as 45km from the initial location of the sign. Cameras mounted on stolen vehicles seem to show a location representing [DATA EXPUNGED] (See Document XXXX-1).


Test Log:
Experiment A- The Car Test - 05/06/20██

Subject: D-2350
Procedure: D-2350 was to drive a modified Toyota Corolla fitted with a GPS tracker pass SCP-XXXX.
Results: D-2350 drove past SCP-XXXX with no immediate issues. After 45 seconds passed, the vehicle visibly rolled to a stop. Attempts to communicate with D-2350 were unsuccessful. After 15 seconds of the anomalous effect activated, SCP-XXXX-3 approached the car and proceeded to force the occupant out of the vehicle. The kangaroos then drove to the trees where they originated. D-2350 wakes up after a further 60 seconds of unconsciousness. D-2350 is collected by researchers and examined for injuries.
Analysis: D-2350 experienced blunt force trauma to the back of his head, with prominent bruising, otherwise was a non fatal injury. GPS tracking showed that the car was taken 20km from the initial site before it went offline. Further Testing on cars needed.

Experiment B- The Bike Test - 07/06/20██

Subject: D-9875
Procedure: D-9875 was to drive past SCP-XXXX on a modified Thumpstar Dirtbike with GPS tracking installed.
Results: D-9875 drove past SCP-XXXX with no immediate issues. After 25 seconds of driving past SCP-XXXX, D-9875 lost consciousness and fell off the bike. Attempts to communicate with D-9875 via radio were unsuccessful. 20 seconds after the anomalous effect activated, SCP-XXXX-2 approached the bike and proceeded to hijack it. D-9875 was quickly retrieved by the foundation for injury assessment.
Analysis: D-9875 experienced blunt force trauma to the back of the head, with prominent bruising. No other injuries were found despite falling of the bike of speeds approximating 40km/h, enough to shred skin off. GPS tracking showed the bike being taken 25km from the initial site before it went offline. Time of the anomalous effect activating seems to coincide with the size of the vehicle. Further testing after 15/06/20██ did not achieve in activating the anomalous effect until the next month.

Experiment C- The Remote Test - 08/07/20██

Subject: None
Procedure: A modified Isuzu 4WD with a GPS was to be remotely controlled to drive pass SCP-XXXX.
Results: The Isuzu successfully passed the sign without immediate issues. After 40 seconds of driving past SCP-XXXX, SCP-XXXX-4 emerged and proceeded to smash the windows of the 4WD and forcibly hijack it. Remote response from the vehicle ceased after 15 seconds, with it driven off by the entities.
Analysis: Kangaroos appear to have above average intelligence than of it's native counterpart, as it knew that the vehicle was being remotely controlled by an outside force. GPS showed that the vehicle was transported 45km from the initial site before going offline.

Experiment D- The Truck Test - 10/09/20██

Subject: D-9521
Procedure: D-9521 was to drive a modified Mack truck, fitted with a GPS and multiple cameras connected remotely from a computer near containment area.
Results: D-9521 drove past SCP-XXXX without immediate issues. 60 seconds after driving past the sign, D-9521 lost consciousness and the truck rolled to a stop. 20 seconds after the anomalous effect activated, SCP-XXXX-10 emerged and proceeded to forcibly remove the occupant via [DATA EXPUNGED]. D-9521 immediately taken to the infirmary for injury assessment.
Analysis: D-9521 exhibited blunt force trauma to the back of the head, with prominent bruising. Despite the events recorded, D-9521 did not exhibit any other injuries during the hijacking. GPS tracking showed the vehicle was transported 30km from the initial site before going offline. Cameras mounted to the vehicle lost signal 300 metres from the location the GPS went offline. Review of footage showed large incinerator with upwards of 100-300 Kangaroos. The kangaroos were in the formation of a [REDACTED] before the camera stream went offline.


SCP-XXXX was brought to the attention of the foundation after multiple police reports were filed between the months of June and October of 20██. This is an excerpt of an interview conducted after a police report was filed:

Interviewed: Local resident Mr. ██████

Interviewer: Sgt.█████

Foreword: Mr.█████ is taken to the police station after being discovered blacked out on the side of the road at 9:00pm on the 29/08/██. Mr.█████ is visibly agitated.

<Begin Log, 30/08/20██ 8:53am >

Sgt.█████: So tell me again. You claim that kangaroos stole your car?

Mr.██████: Yes, kangaroos stole my car. I'm still not sure why you don't believe me

Sgt.█████: Mr. ██████, the reason I find it hard to believe that kangaroos stole your car is because kangaroos aren't native to this area.

Mr.█████ starts fidgeting with his fingers and thumbs.

Mr.██████: So what if they aren't? Maybe they escaped from a zoo or something, I don't know!

Sgt.█████: You were hungover on the side of the road when we found you Mr.██████, your car was nowhere to be seen, and we did not see kangaroos.

Mr.█████ begins to shake from perceived adrenaline. Sgt.████ notices this.

Mr.██████: Listen you mangy old cop, if I saw a fucking kangaroo steal my car then that's what I'll see. You can't change my fucking mind.

Sgt.█████: Mr.█████, this interview is now over. You will be investigated for insurance fraud, all you say from this interview will be used as evidence in court.

(Sounds of struggling can be heard before the door is slammed open, with the forcible removal of Mr.█████)

<End Log, 8:59am>

Closing Statement: After interview was conducted, Mr.█████ was charged with aggravated assault on a police officer.



 Science Officer ████████ gathering an instance of SCP-XXXX for incineration; image taken on 23/10/20██.



Special Containment Procedures: All instances that manifest from SCP-XXXX are to be disposed of via atmospheric re-entry. Foundation agents implanted within major aerospace agencies are to suppress information gathered and observed about instances of SCP-XXXX-1, and Foundation web-crawlers are to suppress information regarding cases of SCP-XXXX and SCP-XXXX-1. All tests with instances of SCP-XXXX must be conducted at Site 66.

All changes regarding the pattern and frequency of SCP-XXXX are to be reported to the Site Director.

Description: SCP-XXXX refers to various articles of fruit which spontaneously manifest on Foundation Orbital Station, which orbits approximately 800km above Earth. These instances occur most frequently between 8:00am UTC and 1:00pm UTC1. Instances do not possess the ability to decompose naturally, even when under lab conditions on Earth.

Analysis of fruits generated showed substances only found when synthetically fabricated under lab conditions.2 Although said substances are usually toxic to humans, consuming instances of SCP-XXXX does not seem to be harmful. When multiple instances of SCP-XXXX are consumed (at least █), the individual will begin to experience signs of exposure to a zero gravity environment, and will begin to levitate for a temporary period, lasting from 3-12 hours and ranging from 30cm to ██km in height. This effect is only activated if eaten within ██km of the Earth's surface.

Instances of SCP-XXXX appear to originate from the remains of a decommissioned NASA Atlas E Rocket3, which was deemed lost in 1962 after a catastrophic failure in the Earth's Mesosphere. Photographs from observations suggest that the occupant inside is the squirrel monkey (Saimiri) Goliath, now designated SCP-XXXX-1. The rocket is surrounded by instances of SCP-XXXX, and appear to be originated from SCP-XXXX-1, suggesting that he is still alive.

SCP-XXXX-1 appears to observe at multiple stations and satellites when they enter his field of vision. Data from said satellites and stations that SCP-XXXX-1 has observed indicated attempts of communication via gestures corresponding to ASL4 (see Addenum-XXXX-1). SCP-XXXX-1 has also shown the ability to produce instances of SCP-XXXX from it's fingertips, and often uses this as a defense mechanism by ejecting fruit at high velocity, ranging of speeds from 50km/h to ███km/h.

Hide Addendum-XXXX-1

A series of messages originating from SCP-XXXX-1 were received by the Foundation on 20/10/20██







UPDATE: 22/11/20██. A series of messages were received by the ISS and the Foundation Orbital Station.






The last observed behavior was a gesture referring to the phrase "[EXPLETIVE DELETED]" directly at the Foundation Orbital Station before firing volleys of SCP-XXXX. Discussion regarding a potential rescue mission is underway.


Object Class: Safe/Euclid/Keter idk

Special Containment Procedures: Due to the anomalous nature of SCP-XXXX, a contianment

Description: [Due to the nature of SCP-XXXX, a full description is unobtainable.] SCP-XXXX is what appears to be a small, red object, approximately a ruler's length in length, width, and height. When the object is within a person's line of sight (Approximately 2% of the entire object), the lenses within their eyes will begin to warp inwards. This process takes 4-6 seconds to fully complete, in which the subjects vision is permanently impaired. The perception of the affected individual varies from each event, with most bearing symptoms of severe Myopia. The use of corrective lenses and refractive surgery do not reverse this effect.

Eye tests taken after the activation of SCP-XXXX show severely reduced hand eye coordination and identification of objects from a distance of 30cm.
Addendum: SCP-XXXX was discovered on

PieFish: For the fruits affecting people float idea, and for helping me get to writing
Axopele and stormbreath: for the floating fruit NASA and copyright thing
Zyn: For Co-authoring The Kangaroo sign with me. And Critting floating fruit
Eli: For critting the floating fruit
DrChandra: For critting Floating Fruit
Leveritas: For the in-depth crit of floating fruit
Aers: For helping with the incident report.
Bardeen: For critting Floating fruit
StormBreath: For helping with NASA and critting floating fruit.
Floppy Pheonix, MrBazzle, and ethanredinger: For the wild ride of reviews in the IRC, like damn that was fun! Go CritTrifecta!
CaptainKirby: For critting Floating fruit
DrApollo and DrSparrow: For critting floating fruit. A front view of SCP-XXXX; image taken on 05/08/20██.




Special Containment Procedures: A 2 meter barbed-wired fence has been erected around the site to deter trespassers. The doors and fence are to be locked after experimentation. A cover story is established to deter individuals from the site. All Foundation staff are under strict orders to not enter SCP-XXXX without prior approval. Any tests including the use of SCP-XXXX are to be reported to the site director for approval. One subject is allowed in SCP-XXXX at any one time. Observations are to be carried out with remote cameras and microphones.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a residential complex located in ██████, Australia, within the suburb of ██████. It is composed of architecture similar to styles originating from the 1970s, with a red brick exterior and iron roof. The house is in a modest state of disrepair, with decor such as paint peeling from the walls and ceiling. Most of the essential items in the complex have been removed prior to Foundation discovery. These items range from small silverware trays to large pieces of furniture. The anomalous portion of the house is the psychological compulsions it inflicts on humans who enter via the front or back door. When they enter the house for longer than 25 minutes, an instinctual compulsion enters the psyche of the individual. The compulsion latches on to the human desire to take objects to cherish the memory of a place or event. Any objects placed inside the house do not achieve this compulsion effect.

Subjects who were restrained in SCP-XXXX and kept past twenty five minutes show increased irritation and aggression towards Foundation staff present. If unrestrained, the subject would first ask if they could take an item for personal reasons, or in other cases, as a 'souvenir'. If they are initially denied the request, they would try and steal the item from SCP-XXXX without the staff noticing. If they are prevented from doing so, they will begin to plead to take an item from SCP-XXXX. If denied once more, the subject will flee the premises and snatch an item in the process. This has resulted in numerous broken containers, chipped brickwork, and ripped paint from SCP-XXXX.

Items taken from SCP-XXXX do not relate to individuals affected by the anomalous properties of SCP-XXXX. The items appear to be include the theme of mythology from the eastern Asian Region (Japan, China, Malaysia, and South East Asia).

Addendum-XXXX-1: During an experiment on ██/██/████, a door concealed by false brickwork was discovered. The door lead to a small woodworking workshop. The area seemed to have gone unused for many years, as black mold had coated most of the interior. In the center of a work table laid the corpse of an unidentified man in his mid-30s. Autopsies suggest that the man died of 2 sustained injuries to both arms. Electrical burns were present on both limbs of the subject, along with 2 jump cables connected to power sockets, suggested that electrocution was involved. Due to the position of the corpse, and the nature of the room itself, suicide has been recorded as the cause of death.

Investigations into the relation of the man and SCP-XXXX are ongoing.

[UPDATE: ██/██/████] Stitching was found on the lower left calf of the corpse discovered in SCP-XXXX. The stitching was made using clear sutures, making it difficult to find when the first autopsies were initiated. Upon opening, a suicide note was discovered. While the note was mostly intact, the first of the 2 pages were rendered unreadable.

Now, that I've got that off my chest, I'm going to vent why I am committing suicide. It's not because I am some delusion fuck that thinks the magic rope is gonna solve my problems, it's because I can't take the fucking urge anymore. This urge brings me pain.

More pain than anything I've ever experienced before, and I got stung by bullet ants! Around me I see so many things that could of ended my life so many years ago, but they fucking failed me! So lets see what happens if I try them all at once.

All I can say now is that my ancestors were greedy pieces of shit, eternal life is a fucking joke. Who knew that my life would end this way? In a house that I hated since I was a kid. Why can't I go back to Japan, it was nicer there.

You know what? Fuck this!

Why am I even writing this? I don't care about the trap curse anymore!

Fuck this

Fuck my ancestors



Floating fruit- Need to expand on the monkey, give it some transmissions to evoke sapient feel along with it calling for help.
also backup for tests:

Test A - 05/11/20██

Subject: D-4569 (Earth)
Procedure: D-4569 was to consume a individual instance of SCP-XXXX-1 (An orange). Orange was analyzed to contain a lethal dose of potassium cyanide.
Results: D-4569 consumed SCP-XXXXX-1 with no immediate issues. D-4569 began complaining of lightheadedness and stomach cramps. Health monitoring for long term effects yielded no results.
Analysis: When instances of SCP-XXXX-1 are consumed, no ill health effect arise from doing so, even with lethal doses of substances are present. Further testing needed for ill health effects.

Test B - 11/11/20██

Subject: D-6582 (Earth)
Procedure: D-6582 was to consume 4 instances of SCP-XXXX-1 (Orange, apple, grape, and cherry). Analysis of fruits showed lethal doses of hydrogen peroxide. D-6582 was to be weighed before and after the experiment.
Results: D-6582 weighed 96kg before the experiment commenced. D-6582 consumed all fruit without immediate ill health effects. D-6582 began complaining of lightheadedness and temporary feelings of weightlessness. D-6582's weight after experimentation was 48kg. Monitoring for further ill health effects yielded no results.
Analysis: D-6582 displayed significant temporary weight loss (6 days) after experimentation. Substances present in instances of SCP-XXXX-1 do not seem to influence human biology than their Earth counterparts.

Test C - 15/12/20██

Subject: D-1574 (Earth)
Procedure: D-1574 was to consume 8 instances of SCP-XXXX-1. Analysis indicated lethal doses of drain cleaner. D-1574 was to be weighed before and after experimentation.
Results: D-1574 managed to consume 6 instances of SCP-XXXX-1 before complaining of lightheadedness and total weightlessness. D-1574 then began to exhibit signs of exposure to a zero gravity environment, and began to become suspended approximately 1.5 metres in the center of the room. D-1574 screams alerted guards outside the facility.
Analysis: SCP-XXXX-1's effect on D-1574 is a non-isolated incident, as further testing yielded the same result. Further testing needed for health effects in zero gravity

<Zyn>: Pratten: maybe a short one
<Pratten>: Just need to make sure it's coherent
<Pratten>: sorry for spamming
<Zyn>: no probs. And I can't see any upscroll, so… it doesn't look like spam to me
*** Soulless is now known as Soulles|Sleep
<Zyn>: link me my dude
<Pratten>: http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/themanhattenproject
<Pratten>: Floating fruit tab
<Zyn>: Pratten: uhhhh first off, isn't that just an astronaut in a shuttle or something?
<Zyn>: and it's just low gravity causing the fruit to levitate?
<Zyn>: SCP-XXXX is a phenomena > phenomena is plural
<Zyn>: a phenomenon
<Zyn>: oh wait they just suddenly appear
<Zyn>: huh
<Zyn>: might want to specify anomalous phenomenon
<Zyn>: not just phenom
<Pratten>: Ah yeah]
<Zyn>: SCP-XXXX instances, designated as SCP-XXXX-1 > it's one or the other
<Zyn>: might as well just make the fruit SCP-XXXX
<Pratten>: And then make the other SCP-XXXX-1
<Zyn>: > SCP-XXXX-2 has been observed pointing in seemingly random directions with both its index fingers.
<Zyn>: I don't know why, but this /freaks me out/
<Zyn>: just like… a monkey looking at you and pointing in random directions
<Zyn>: maybe because I find monkeys kinda scary sometimes, but yeah
<Zyn>: Pratten: I don't think you need XXXX and XXXX-1 here
<Zyn>: since you have the phenomenon and the fruit separate
<Zyn>: but the phenomenon is just the appearance of the fruit
<Zyn>: might as well just have one anomaly—the randomly-appearing fruit
<Pratten>: Ah okay, so the fruit and phenomena are SCP-XXXX
<Zyn>: I mean
<Zyn>: you cna just say
<Zyn>: "SCP-XXXX refers to various articles of fruit which spontaneously manifest in [foundation space station]
<Zyn>: also I'm a little unsure of the logs
<Zyn>: seem a little… trite? Overdramatic?
<Zyn>: Like, I feel like I've seen that sort of thing before
<Pratten>: I tried to make the monkey seem desperate
<Pratten>: because the fruit isn't sustaining him anymore
<Zyn>: I personally would take a different track: have the monkey be /pissed/ that it's been stuck in space so long
<Zyn>: Pratten: that feels kinda… like laying it on too thick?
<Zyn>: How did the monkey learn to write anyway?
<Pratten>: Morse code was my reason
<Pratten>: it's in the article
<Zyn>: but how does a monkey learn morse code?
<Pratten>: Monkeys have learned sign language, haven't they?
<Pratten>: So I think morse code can also be learnt
<Zyn>: uhh
<Zyn>: not really
<Zyn>: sign language is fairly straightforward. A sign corresponds to a concept
<Zyn>: Morse code requires knowledge of English
<Zyn>: which involves combining letters into new words
<Zyn>: the equivalent would be a monkey fingerspelling everything
<Zyn>: as opposed to using signs
<Zyn>: which monkeys do not do
<Pratten>: Well I can't have it using sign language while looking at foundation satel oh I see what you're saying
<Pratten>: back to the drawing board on that
<Zyn>: you could totally do that
<Zyn>: although I personally feel like it would be less predictable if the monkey was just like
<Zyn>: doing rude gestures all the time
<Zyn>: and the fruit is it complaining
<Zyn>: like, "what is this? what is this garbage?"
<Zyn>: "get me out of here you morons"
<Zyn>: but that's just my take on it, because I am not of the best opinion of monkeys.
<Zyn>: They can be /jerks/.
<Pratten>: Okay
<Apoplexic>: Always monkeying around.
<Pratten>: So I better remove the addendum entirely and add that it does rude gestures
<Aers>: Pratten: you could have logs of observed behaviour
<Pratten>: true
<Aers>: If the last one isn't it just staring at a satellite flipping the bird
<Zyn>: Pratten: it's your call! What I'm recommending would change the tone of your article a lot
<Zyn>: if you don't want to go that route, don't
<Zyn>: Aers: my thoughts exactly
<Zyn>: I mean, we've already got the sad rabbit in space SCP
<Pratten>: I'm just trying to make sure that I don't get destroy like my last solo aritcle
<Pratten>: *destroyed
<Zyn>: I feel like for a species that can be enormous dicks to others (social hierarchy is a crapshoot in primate culture) you might as well work with that
<Zyn>: or heck, the fruit is like
<Zyn>: indicative of a portal or something
<Zyn>: the monkey's been throwing fruit at the walls having a temper tantrum
<Zyn>: it somehow finds a spot that wormholes to the Foundation station
<Zyn>: and it starts throwing fruit at researchers trying to get them to intervene
<Pratten>: Sounds like that avacado portal article
<Zyn>: you can have the last log be the monkey flipping the researchers off, and the last line being like "discussion regarding a potential rescue mission is underway"
<Zyn>: Pratten: which one is that?
<Pratten>: Can't remember the number, but it did get -20 before the end of the day
<Zyn>: oh indeeed
<Zyn>: well
<Zyn>: you could always shop the concept again
<Zyn>: if it's substantially changed from the first iteration, might as well make a new post
<Pratten>: yeah..
<Pratten>: I
<Pratten>: I'll put this all down in the ideas thing and make it coherant

Oliver- advice on context and hinting at a larger story
BoogeyMan23- Advice on making things more coherent and clear
Pecan- establish bigger connection to the man and house
DrChandra -
Zyn- A lot of stuff, refer to the forum SCP-XXXX during recovery. Note the decrepit state of its surroundings. 01/02/20██



Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be locked in a secure storage container in Multipurpose Test Room 6 at Site 73. SCP-XXXX must only be removed and used for testing purposes with D-class personnel while accompanied by a Level-2 researcher. Due to the anomalous effects of SCP-XXXX and the nature of Multipurpose test room A6, security personnel are not needed. EFFECTIVE AS OF 03/05/20██ 1 armed security guard is to be situated outside Multipurpose test room A6 area to authorize entry for research purposes.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a pair of black leather gloves with white stitching along the finger and palm areas. Stitched on the back of each glove is the phrase "SAFETY FIRST", with the manufacturer’s tag, Umatta Mechanic, stitched on the side of each glove. Upon examination, the gloves do not appear anomalous in nature, and protect the user from thermal and physical damage in stress tests.
When SCP-XXXX is worn with one or both gloves, the anomalous effects will activate. When the gloves comes into contact with an object for approximately 2-5 seconds, the object will begin to decompose at an accelerated rate. The effect is limited to what the glove touches and does not spread on its own. The effect is not limited by the material of objects it comes into contact with. Materials range from organic substances to synthetic materials manufactured in lab conditions.

SCP-XXXX does not seem to affect liquids, or solids that have been placed in a liquefied state (See Document XXXX-A). SCP-XXXX does not seem to affect itself, as tests have shown that contact with each other does not activate it's anomalous effects. SCP-XXXX's abilities can be diminished considerably with the use of SCP-████.
Archives of Umatta Mechanic indicate records of manufacturing gloves similar to SCP-XXXX. See Addendum XXXX-2.


Experiment XXXX-1 The Fruit Test

Subject: D-8943
Procedure: D-8943 was to pick up each of three fruits in different states of decay. A severely decomposed apple, a freshly picked orange, and a ripened pineapple. The subject would pick each object for 10 seconds, and then put them back down, assuming they were still in a usable state.
Results: Subject D-8943 instructed to put on SCP-XXXX on both hands. D-8943 then instructed to pick up one of the 3 fruits lying on the floor, each with both hands. D-8943 picks up the orange with SCP-XXXX. The orange begins decomposition within 4 seconds. D-8943 drops the orange, and it lands on the newly rotten side, spraying juices. D-8943 picks up the apple. The apple decomposition rapidly increases within 3 seconds. Apple continues to decompose until it becomes a fully liquefied solid, where it's decomposition stops completely. D-8943 questions his safety, he is assured that he will be not harmed during the experiment. D-8943 reluctantly picks up the pineapple. The pineapple begins decomposition within 5 seconds. D-8943 drops the pineapple after losing grip. The pineapple splatters on the ground, spraying juices on D-8943.
Analysis: SCP-XXXX seems to decompose organic matter within a brief period of time, ranging from 2-5 seconds. The way that the fruits decomposed matched the natural state of decomposition in the wild. More testing on non organic materials needed.


Experiment XXXX-2 The Water Test

Subject: D-0654
Procedure: D-0654 was to submerge SCP-XXXX into an iron bucket of water, and then remove SCP-XXXX from bucket after 10 seconds of exposure. If unsuccessful, D-0654 would then touch the sides of the bucket for anomalous effects of SCP-XXXX
Results: Subject D-0654 instructed to put on SCP-XXXX on both hands. D-0654 then instructed to dip both hands into an iron bucket of water without touching the bucket. D-0654 complies and places both hands in the bucket of water. Water is unaffected by SCP-XXXX. D-0654 then instructed to touch the sides of the bucket while SCP-XXXX was submerged. The Iron starts to corrode after 4 seconds of contact. D-0654 spastically removes hands from bucket and throws the gloves off. D-0694 refuses to cooperate for the rest of the experiment, despite repeated orders to continue the experiment. D-0694 was shortly terminated thereafter.
Analysis: SCP-XXXX seems to affect non organic materials. Similar tests with different non organic materials yield similar results. D-0654's refusal to cooperate was an isolated incident. Further testing needed.


Experiment XXXX-3 The Handshake Test

Subjects: D-3560 and D-0394
Procedure: D-3560 was to wear SCP-XXXX on his right hand and proceed to shake hands with D-0394 for 3 consecutive seconds.
Results: Subject D-3560 instructed to put on SCP-XXXX on his right hand. Subject D-0394 was instructed to shake hands with D-3560 with his left hand. D-0394 grips D-3560's hand for approximately 4 seconds. D-0394 suddenly recoils and shrieks in pain. D-3560 is told to not interfere or face termination. D-0394 begins convulsing and proceeds to [DATA EXPUNGED]. D-0394 is taken to the infirmary for examination. Palm and fingers shows early stages of decomposition, with a faint smell described as "Pure death". D-0394's motor skills in his left hand diminished considerably after test was conducted. Subject D-0394 expired from his wounds 2 weeks after experimentation.
Analysis: SCP-XXXX seems to affect human skin at a considerably faster rate than other organic compounds. D-0394's reaction to SCP-XXXX's anomalous effects is a non isolated incident, as other D Class subjects exhibited the same behaviours including [DATA EXPUNGED]. Proposition to test on humanoid SCPs pending.



SCP-XXXX was found in the home of Mr. ██████ ███ in ██████, Australia. The home was in a severely decrepit state, with the corpse of the former occupant [DATA EXPUNGED]. Attention was brought to the Foundation after news media outlet [REDACTED] generated reports of a newly refurbished house suddenly decomposing back to its former state within a few weeks. Class A Amnesiacs were administered to residents within broadcast radius. All archives referencing the event were wiped.

[31/02/02██] A handwritten note was discovered at residence before scheduled demolition. Note was severely deteriorated, indicating the writer was wearing SCP-XXXX at the time.

Fuck this, I've had enough wearing these stupid things, I can't do anything…seeping away in my. I need to finish this before the glov… Okay using pen now. Make sure that you only see this Car… Thraw tese gloves away and bury..oka…?, itm'll only hort a little w..n you throw them unde… Please do it. For us. im leavidn a numba to cal… it's ████████████

The handwriting becomes unintelligible after this point. All attempts at calling the listed number automatically returned voicemails.


Archives of Umatta Mechanic shows several documents relating to SCP-XXXX. Most of the information was classified before Foundation intervention.

The most significant document reads:


All gloves relating to the ██████████ of our machines must be distributed by multiple █████████ and NEVER ████. Our last incident left ██ dead and ███ in the hospital. I'm not gonna get my pay cut again. When the inspector comes, DO NOT MENTION ██ ██████. Use cover stories if asked about failing machinery. If any staff are to ████ this information, we will sack and [DATA CORRUPTED].

Regards- General Manager ████.

The incident most likely matches the Umatta factory explosion recorded on the 02/11/20██. Searches for potential copies of SCP-XXXX underway.

Lazar: For the helping of "Show don't Tell" thing, and with the story's content in general
LadyKatie: Writing Style.
Coryn02: Feel of the story from a different point of view.
Oculism: For the tone of the writing and the confusion of the lesser known anomaly.

Chapter 2!
Darkstuff Twice

I'm sorry if they have to read it again.

Chapter 3!

Plot Shit (By Gummy Dragon)
This stated a little suddenly, but it was paced just fine: it didn't seem too fast or too slow, although i feel it could have been longer, it's only half the length of parts 1 and 2. maybe you could add something on the Foundation POV as filler? Mobilizing the soon-to-be dead MTF? I'm not a big fan of slaughtering Task Forces, but there is a proper way to do it, like if they get caught unprepared. Maybe we could get a brief look at the team before they move out.

[Note Kangaroos can understand standard English, with the exception of slang and concepts with the complexity of advance science (quantum physics, consciousness, etc). One of them reveals to Michael (after he saves her), that the kangaroo population has been culled by foundation scientists and security personnel, whether or not an experiment has taken place. Eventually it is found that the kangaroos are becoming more hostile due to personnel culling kangaroos and purposely keeping it off all records.


The heroine's guard shattered into thousands of pieces. A blow that had her stare at him, her eyes unblinking. She stood there, helpless as the costume clad villain began his vehement counter argument. By god she was going to get it.

“You cannot see, you cannot hear, you cannot feel the things I do and experience every day. Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted to end up like this, this shell of who I was? No! I didn’t, and I didn’t want to have to explain that to you. Do you honestly believe that you, the high and mighty superhero, can relate to the common man? You can barely relate to your sidekick, let alone the average citizen of New York, let alone ones that were taken over.”


“Let me ask you this, hero. Have you ever been taken over? Do you know how it feels? How it feels to have control wrestled from your body like a paper ripped from a book? It’s not pleasant. And when you get one goal to let it all go away, we go at it like moths to a lamp, knowing that we will always lose. A battle where we cannot possibly win against the ‘Power’ and the ‘Wisdom’. It saddens me, really. To see some bubbly, mindless heroes forcibly remove the chains from the body of an innocent person, and then patiently wait for The Prisoner to strike again!

Here you are, with your boy toy gone and your powers useless, only now do you show your true colours. Even with my mental ineptitude, I can see you are afraid, you are very afraid. Afraid of letting New York down, afraid of letting your friends down, but at worst, letting yourself down. Can you hear it? Can you hear the screams of anguish, of those that have been under the control of The Prisoner? I can, I can hear every single one.

Do you know what they say?

‘Save us! Save us Power Girl! Save us from this torture, Power Girl!’

Doesn’t that sound nice? To hear the screams of those who had gone before, those you forcibly beat to the ground as they cried out in mercy? Of course, you just threw them around and destroyed the object that bound them, but still… those screams.

You feeling uncomfortable, Power Girl? You want to change the subject, I can do that. Just for you."

A chuckle escaped from the villain's lips.

“You know, I loved New York when I first came here, it was so beautiful, the people were nice, and I could get a stable life together for my family. Sure, there were a few issues with the noise, but they could be easily negated.”

Power Girl’s eyes went wide. It was him! It was the headphone man! How could she have been so stupid, the signs were there. If only she could have been there to prevent it.

“And when the tipping point came, it was everything I feared the most. The anger, the first wave of hesitation, the point of the action, and then the consequences. And with all that, they talked behind my back like cowards. ‘Hey look it’s the headphone man! Who’s the loner that sits in the park every day for months on end!? Does he have a home, a job, parents, the basic mental attitude of a 6th grader!!??’ I heard it all! I heard every last word spoken from those foul mouths!

And then it was you, Power Girl, who tipped me over in my ultimate form. Who knew that a single phrase could have brought the destruction of half the city? All those lives, gone without a trace, not until you use that little device of yours of course, a perfect reset button. But when can you use that? Not right now, because you’re pretty much helpless where you are. This will be cathartic when I take your life and finally free myself from this torture. I still can’t believe I actually saved you from the shockwave. In a moment of clarity I did something remotely human, something you can never aspire to achieve.

And for what? So you could stand upon me, striking a pose for the press as New York burns in the background? You are disgusting. People look up to you, people admire you, and you do this?

You tire me now, Power girl, so I believe your time's up no-



Are… are you crying?

Oh for heaven's sake, that's not too good for your public image, is it? Look, I know you love cameras being shoved in your face, so I made sure that this conversation is on live television!

Whoops, did I leave that part out? I’m sorry, I get too excited sometimes. Man, I love how wonderful modern technology is. These cameras here captured every expression on your sorry face, and the people of New York are jumping for joy. For who, you ask? I’ll let you hear.”

Noisemaker turned up the speaker mounted next to a hidden camera. The cheers were clear as day. They chose the victor, the savior, the hero. There was nothing Power Girl could do now, only hang her head in silence.

Doctor Bishop,

I never thought I would have had to write to you like this, but certain circumstances have lead me no other choice. And with your current situation, a face to face conversation would be near impossible, not with your issues.

I’m going to be blunt here, and spare you the flowery words.

I fucking hate you, and I wish you never joined this organisation.

Now, you may be wondering why I have written you what is essentially a hate letter, but considering I am your superior, I think it’s best that you listen to every word.

When you joined the Foundation, at first I was quite happy, a new Doctor on the team to help out on all the tests on SCP-3502. But then within a few short days, you became insufferable. You lost important files pertaining to a recent test of one of the Kangaroos, you made unnecessary phone calls to my office and your co worker’s cubicles to ask questions explicitly answered during orientation, and actually you made moral drop in the office due to your behaviour

The list can go on and on, but I don’t want to shoot myself trying to remember everything you did, I don’t want you to have the honour of scraping my brains off the walls. But I digress; I wrote to you to address one of the biggest fuckups you did during your stay here, and by god you will get it. When you did that interview with Michael, you broke so many rules that it physically made me gag when the report turned up on my desk. Not only did you administer anmnestics without a witness, and got your eye poked out by the same man under the effects of Class-A amnestics, you then had the audacity to blame Amil for the situation, citing: “I’m sorry, but Amil called me during the process, I knew it was wrong, but I had to answer according to protocol.”

What the fuck is that, Nathaniel? You know damn well that you could have ignored it when you turned your back on Michael, but because of your stupid protocol following, we now have to spend more money and resources tracking down one person and do the job properly. I am disgusted, properly disgusted with your actions Nathaniel.

That was only the largest infraction you made, too. I’ve received numerous complaints from staff about your behaviour, and from the list, you are one fucked up piece of shit. From leery eyes, to inappropriate conversations and gestures, to asking one female worker which person gave her a hickey; it was all downright creepy and unacceptable behaviour. And don’t you dare blame this on your ‘mental disability’, Nathaniel. We all know damn well that you don’t have any fucking disability, no matter how many times you lie when we get you tested, time and time again!

And this isn’t even getting to the nitty gritty of why I have such a distaste to you. That fact that you are a poor worker, a poor interviewer, and a poor doctor in general make it seem that you lied when you were asked to join. It sickens me that people who worked their asses off for years for a chance to work in the field of science get shoved for the likes of you. I cannot believe that you, of all people, managed to work here for 3 fucking years. Three years of where I had to deal with your bullshit time and time again, and then I gave up after they gave me your report this year.

I’m too tired to keep writing this to you, and honestly, it’s a waste of ink, paper, and data to make this. I hope you’re happy with yourself, with what you did. Now everyone has to do twice the work because you fucked up, again.

Honestly, I’m going to be straight with you again.

I want you leave.

I want you to never come back.

I want you to die.

I wish no one attends your funeral.

I wish you never came here.

And I wish you were never a burden to all of us.


Dr. Nathaniel Bishop

Subjects: Dr Bishop and POI “Jumping Jack” (Who will be simply be referred to as Jack)
Photographed Activity: Dr Bishop is conducting an interview with Jack. Both were unaware of the photographer at the time.
Photo Result: The location changes to a boxing ring located in site BLACK BOX, with Dr Bishop and Jack appearing to be engaged in a friendly match. Grey Kangaroos (Macropus giganteus) are spread throughout the crowd of facility personnel, holding signs that praise both the subjects skill in boxing. It is to be noted that multiple major injuries are present on both of the boxers’ body, most notably Jack’s left hand missing its middle finger, and Dr Bishop’s formerly missing right being replaced with a glass replica, albeit lacking an iris and pupil.
Note: So, is this Doctor Bishop’s desires or Jacks desires? I’m genuinely stumped. - Dr ██████

1. Coordinated Universal Time
2. Recorded substances include potassium cyanide, hydrogen peroxide, nicotine, oil based paint and one sample of drain cleaner
3. The Atlas rocket was part of a series of NASA experiments to see if animals (primarily Monkeys) could survive the vacuum of space
4. American Sign Language
 
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