Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe/Euclid Keter (See Addendum 4-6)
Special Containment Procedures: The Object must have a triple locked box outside of the box the object is contained in. No less than two (2) armed guards may be present at all times. The box is never to be opened for testing purposes or for sheer amusement. Upon breach due to opening, object is to be reassigned to Keter until contained.
Description: The Object must have a triple locked box outside of the box the object is contained in. No less than two (2) armed guards may be present at all times. The box is never to be opened for testing purposes or for sheer amusement. Upon breach due to opening, object is to be reassigned to Keter until contained.
Description: SCP-███ is wooden box appearing to date from the 19th century. It appears to be a soldier’s chest, yet upon first opening, the personnel attempting to retrieve it were hit by a blinding white light and were frozen in spot, according to a nearby helicopter pilot. The box appears to have reddish-brown stains covering most of the box. According to DNA analysis the blood appears to be from a species not yet known to man.
Examination of the wood has led nowhere, as it appears to not originate from any tree known on earth.
Experiment Log 1A:
D-8321832 was instructed to enter the room with the box, being given no briefing about its anomalous properties to determine if the effects were psychological. D-8321832 (further referred to as SCP-███-2) was then instructed to open the box. Upon opening the box, the same blinding white light the pilot saw was thrust into his face, paralyzing him. This state could not be broken by any means, including amnesiacs and blunt trauma. Approximately three (3) days later a [Data Expunged] emerged from the box, and [Data Expunged] D-8321832, causing death immediately. Multiple [DATA EXPUNGED] then resumed their dormant state inside the box.
Experimentation suspended due to unnecessary end results.
Addendum Two: Secondary effects on personnel guarding the box have been observed as A tendency for the appendix to explode at a random time,white light radiating from your eyes, and most horrifically, then turning into [DATA EXPUNGED]
Addendum Three: Transmission from Site██:
“Help, Help, Help! It’s growing, oh dear God, the box is growing! The locks….they’re cracking! It’s going to be open! Help us! Quickly! (Inarticulate screaming from multiple personnel.) Oh dear god, its killed them all! All of them within seconds, I have no clue why it’s letting me live [DATA EXPUNGED], Oh no please [DATA EXPUNGED] (Long scream of intense pain from [DATA EXPUNGED]).
Addendum 4: > “Command, there is a huge figure approaching the site…it is unknown if it is hum—-oh god, it is DEFINITELY not human. What…what is it doing! It’s shimmering! Oh god, it appears to be holding…oh god, is that [DATA EXPUNGED]."
Following this incident any personnel seeing this are immediately prepare the evacuation of necessary SCPs and then begin the Warhead countdown.
O5 personnel have authorized a massive use of resources to recapture the SCP, although it seems to have no desire to harm civilians…it only goes after SCP Containment sites.
Addendum 6: Object reclassified as Keter due to popular vote.
I, Joe Schmitzerwagen, have been reassigned from juvenile detention to a D-Class personnel to the Foundation. They say one month and I’m home free, but you should have heard the rumors from my mates…They say no one has ever made it back. That scary, mind bending objects exist that can make your bones liquefy or your blood turn to stone. They say if you even look at their face they will hunt you down until one is dead. They also say that it’s just an asylum for murdering us. They say that it’s humane, I say it’s one heck of a cover-up. I am thirteen years old. I am on a bus. I am being transported to god knows where. No one will talk to me. They just look at me and shake their head, like they know my future, and that it will be grim. I have been given an orange jumpsuit with D-class written in every possible location. It must be made of some weird polymer, because it is VERY Itchy.
We pulled to what appeared to be a factory, I was blindfolded and lead in and promptly deposited in a cell with three other D-class personnel. They did the same thing those on the bus did…except they said two words. “Fresh Meat.” The scream that was unleashed from my lungs was a tear between fear and the acceptation of a dark and awful reality that the rumors only began to hint at. That one statement was followed by worlds of whispering. The desks began attacking me…and then I blacked out.
I awoke in a room. Three O5s surrounded me. I have no clue what O5 stands for. They interrogate me, ask questions, I am still groggy and for all I can tell, a desk just punched me in the face. They say I’m assigned to SCP-[Redacted]. I hear rumors it kills you through paralysis. I learned that rumors are more often true than not.
They inject me with a needle and I black out once again.
I awake in a room with a chest. A headset in my ear tells me to open it with the key in my pocket. I tell them I have no key, and begin to prove it, but sure enough, inside my pocket is a skeleton key. I open the chest. Blinding white light blinds me and my limbs feel like thousand kilogram dumbbells attached to a plastic body. I want to crumble to the floor but cannot move. My limbs won’t respond. I try to speak. I cannot. They leave me there for what feels like days. The light slows. A shapeless form emerges. My end follows swiftly.
The Killer Boxtop
Object Class: Safe
Object Number: SCP-10909
Special Containment Procedures: A box in my office.
Object Description: Upon examination by the naked eye, the subject appears to be a normal box top. When observed for more than 38 seconds the box top begins to appear to shimmer. This is followed by an undeniable urge to rip your eyes out of their sockets. Upon closer examination by researchers each dot of ink in the box top is another picture of a box top. With a more powerful microscope we are more likely to determine that each individual dot of ink in the 2nd box top layer contains more box tops, ad infinitum. Due to the potentially deadly side effects of ripping your eyes out, yet the easiness too contain, this has been classified as Safe.
Retrieval: Upon picking up the Boxtop, Sgt. —— promptly proceeded to tear his eyes out. When questioned later, he said it was a command seemingly coming from the Box top and as indeclinable as when being suggested to do something when in a deep state of hypnosis. This box top was first discovered after a multitude of eye rippings in the state of Georgia, most frequently of which occurred in kindergarteners. Every person involved has been given a class A amnesiac.
Experiment Log 1A:
D-18222 was not informed about the Box top’s potential powers, and was instructed to stare at the box top for 24 hours. Exactly 60 seconds into the experiment D-18222 tried and nearly succeeded in ripping is eyes out. Guards then proceeded to tranquilize and terminate D-18222.
Experiment Log 1b: D-18223 was informed to try and destroy the Box top. All attempts failed including using a high powered flame thrower. All attempts failed and ended in D-18223 being terminated due to mental instability.
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: In its original box, not to be opened. Entrances to the containment room are to be guarded by 2 (two) guards. Anyone attempting to enter will be demoted to D-Class or terminated.
Description: The Object appears to be a Bluetooth model from late 2008, produced by -. The mouthpiece is black, and the part which attaches to the ear is blue. It is made of a vinyl or polyester. Upon wearing the blue tooth commands come supposedly from the Bluetooth itself. These commands cannot be ignored or disobeyed, and the victim will enter a trancelike state, following whatever it says. Removal of the earpiece fixes the problem, although afterwards they fear a strong calling from the object, telling them to wear it. The Object appears to be sentient as it occasionally converses with us when having a host.
Retrieval: The Object came into Foundation custody when reports in Mexico of a zombie-like murderer were reported to our branch down there. It has been transported with the killing of only one agent to site 59.
Interview with D-1029 wearing SCP-19723:
D-1029: “Hello, Foundation”
Dr. Oranges: “How do you know what we are?”
D-1029: “You just told me.”
Dr. Oranges: “Why do you control the people who wear you?”
D-1029: “For sheer amusement.”
D-1029 goes into seizures followed by cardiac arrest and dies within fifteen minutes. The Bluetoooth appears to have the ability to kill the victims as well.
Nothing can destroy this, known to man, short of a nuclear missile.
We, as retrievers of the SCPs, are frequently put in much greater danger than even D-Class personnel. They at least know somewhat of what they are up against. We, on the other hand, know little to absolutely nothing. Any intel on anything we have is usually dead wrong. Anything we know is usually the tip of an iceberg 500 miles away from the one we wish to recover. More often than not, somebody dies. This is usually never a painless death. Always pained and slow, and on the occasions where it is quick, you do not even know what hit you. The blood fills your eyes. Your circle of vision darkens. You feel an immense pain. And then, you feel nothing at all. The fragile room of mirrors that is your life is shattered, in the blink of an eye, you never existed. Not to the Foundation at least, to them, you’re a failure. You died in duty; you failed to accomplish your mission. You failed them. Return, and death awaits. Run away, however, and the punishments become much more severe and torturous. You wonder how they get away with this; a government today would not let this happen, right? Wrong. They have the Senate, the House of Representatives, and heck, even the White House and half of NATO is under their control. They control what you do and do not see. They control what you believe. They control what you fear. They control what you desire. They control you.
You may believe you are in control. They provide an illusion of that, they decide for you what you want, and how you desire to get it. Even psychopaths are engineered by them to make you think the world is out of control. That is why, you cannot run. You cannot hide. They know you will. They know where you will run and hide, and they can control how fast. They can bend time. They can bend you. That is why, we E-Classes are stuck in a trap between the SCPs and the “organization” that hires us to capture them. Both are deadly. Both can kill without hesitation.
So when I say we were going after a soldier’s box, you will be surprised how much we dreaded it. Often the simplest of objects is the most dangerous. Simplicity, my friends, is power. We never knew what went wrong, we just died. Oh, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll start from the beginning.
We were eating our lunch, preparing to train a few SCPs that help, and guard some Keter level objects, as the elites when off duty, we frequently got jobs normal security personnel would rather commit suicide than perform. We would prefer to do the same, but our demise came from our loyalty. We were never disloyal to the Foundation. Anyhow, we were all called down to the Level 4’s office. I met up with my second in command. We knew this was bad. Another mission meant more deaths. More deaths meant more guilt that was placed squarely on my shoulders. It also meant we would have to train another person in the arts of capturing an SCP. That is not an easy task in the slightest, especially when you begin with Reality Benders, you know, those objects that totally warp reality around them, causing a desk to become animate and punch you in the face? Yeah, those, we always get those.
“Welcome, E-Force 100. We have another capture mission for you.” A groan was barely suppressed by all members. We knew death meant nothing, we would never see our families again no matter what, wouldn’t want any information about what really went down leaking out, would you? But some of us still held hope, the Foundation may one day collapse…we may one day get to see our wives and children again. No, we must never think that way. If the Foundation collapses, the end is on its way. Starting with us. “We have a small mission for you, all you have to do is bring a box back to us. It’s located in a village in Mexico.” That seemed simple enough, wait, simple, this is going to end badly.
We flew straight to Mexico, and plop, down in the desert we went. No one knew where we came from, nobody cared. Because there was nobody. Not even a tumbleweed. Finally making our way to the village square, a white light blinded us. We couldn’t see, we thought the GoC may be nearby, hunting us down. That was the least of our worries. We rushed forward, putting on protective vision ware. We saw the source. It was worse. The entire town, infront of the box, standing motionless, as if paralyzed. We found we could not move either. We could not talk. A helicopter, hovering nearby spoke into the mic, “What’s going on!?”. He then saw the light, and couldn’t move. The helicopter crashed. He died. We stood there for what seemed like forever, nothing moved, nothing stirred. We could see a change, well feel it anyway. The pressure was different…we could move, albeit slightly..we thought we were free. How wrong we were. A shapeless form emerged from the box..and…and…it began…devouring my squad along with the townspeople. I could do nothing. It ignored me, as if I was invisible. I begged to be killed. It wanted to be taken into custody. By me. I have no clue what its motives were, my only choice was to obey. I brought it to the foundation. They asked of my squad. I said the creature inside killed it. They believed me.
I still feel the guilt today, the creature talks to me in my dreams. It tells me what it is planning. I cannot even begin to hope to stop it. I cannot tell anybody. They will blame me. I will die. I want to live. I want to live. I want to…die.
Watch out, humans, we always listen, we may play dumb, but we really know more than you think. We know you fear death, We do not. You will die, your pitiful, ugly race will go extinct.
It started normally. The standard barrage of tests. Stimuli, electrical, mechanical, even emotional. Nothing happened. We walked out of the room, and that’s when things started going wrong. The power flashed once, the main generators hum faded to nothing as the backup stirred to life. The lights flashed again, the second generator, too, failed. The lights flashed a third time, and the power was dead. A voice came over the loud speaker: “All personnel multiple Euclid and Keter level breaches have been detected, extreme caution is advised.” The fear struck, but only for a second, my training kicked in. I took shelter in a room with my other researchers. All of us shared a look of worry on our faces. The sentient SCPs would go after us first. We cause their pain, attempting to find new ways to hurt, injure, contain, and distract them. They hate us. We hate them. D-Class would be next, as they perform the tests. Following that, they would attack everything else. We needed to launch the Nuke, but command had a bright idea to put the launch button directly next to our most dangerous Keter. On the way there would be tens more. Each one capable of killing you with a simple look. Each one more dangerous than the last.
We all left, we had to make it. We split into groups of three, and went down separate paths. I never know what became of the rest. I never saw them again, in life or death, flesh or bone, nothing. They simply vanished. We detected the change in pressure first, and fear struck again. There was a disturbance. A strong disturbance. I never knew what hit me, but whatever It was saved my life. My vision tunneled. A sharp pain was felt on the back of my head. The tunnel narrowed to the size of a quarter. A nickel. A penny. A dime. And then, I blacked out. In my dreams that followed I heard screaming, terrible, awful screaming. It sounded vaguely familiar. It was my own screaming. I saw friends, now I knew they were dead. I am not sure how I know, but I could picture the exact way they died. Which SCPs killed them…and how. It was morbid, awful, terrible. The fear was cumulative, it never ended, only grew. It was unbearable. I became aware of a presence above me. I tried to open my eyes, they seemed to be glued shut.
“Easy, there.” A familiar, friendly voice said. I did not recognize him, yet he seemed friendly enough. I obeyed. Slowly feeling returned to my limbs. My eyes opened. The figure above me was the worst of all. It was the figure from the box. The box that claimed two sites. It saved me, but why?
“It is okay, I know what you are thinking, you destroyed two sites, you caused this breach, where are my friends, you are evil, why did you help me, these will be answered in due time.” He said. “And yes I can read minds.” I was amazed. He never seemed more than sapient before…this level of intelligence was astonishing…wait, if he could read my mind, and play dumb…what if the other SCPs…oh god. We’ve been tricked all along…this is just some foul trick to fool us into a false sense of security…we thought we were studying them. Learning about them. How to combat them…but in reality they were learning about us. They were plotting our demise. They took the casualties as a sign of victory. They learned our ways, our weapons, and adapted to be immune, all the while playing tricks. Wait, does that mean SCP-173 is playing tricks too, can he really move while we look at him? Is this some sick trick? What is going on! All these thoughts ran through my head. The look on the SCPs face turned quickly from amusement to concern. I looked at the monitor, my heart rate was jumping. He was worried. “Try not to think…I need you alive.” He needs me alive? For what? A drop fell down from the IV in my arm. I was out in a flash.
I awoke to the same SCP. I felt better, my heart rate more normal. I followed his advice, and limited my thinking.
“I should explain. Those thoughts about the SCPs, they’re true. They like playing games. This has happened before. The O5s know, though they refuse to admit it. You cannot stop it, nobody can. Yet you can survive, we’ll drive them into captivity again, make them forget, but the inevitable will eventually happen. They may win. All will be lost. Do not worry…and then, I died. My last vision was him smiling…another trick…he had killed me the same way we did to them…what a horrible way to go.
A Wireless Killer
Finally, today I get my first phone. My name is Alex, I am finally getting my first phone. My mom denies that I should have one, even at ten. Everyone knows there is something off. My sister had a phone five years before me, and I am the oldest. Anyway, I got a Bluetooth for my phone as well, courtesy of an unknown giver from the mail. My parents, while suspicious at first, confirmed there was nothing harmful about it. I appreciate it greatly. I plugged it into the phone. A voice was heard.
“Do not fear, I will not harm you, do as I say.” I could not disobey. All fear was expelled from me. My thoughts were clear, not panicked. I waited for further instructions. “You are to remove the Bluetooth headset and thank your family for the gift, upon arrival at school you are to insert the Bluetooth headset again and await instructions.” I obeyed. I had no choice. It demanded I did so, any doubts were expelled. Upon saying my thanks and returning to my room, I fell asleep and awaited the next day.
Upon arrival at school, I followed instructions. I inserted the Bluetooth. The voice was heard near instantly, “Good, you have obeyed, I always knew you would. Go to class and kill your teacher. Anyone seeing with you should be killed as well. There is a knife in your pack. Invisible to anyone that is not using the Bluetooth. It shall fit you well. The knife appeared to made of obsidian, it was beautiful and incredibly sharp despite its dull appearance. I walked to my teacher and said I needed to ask them something in private. He followed. I slit his throat in the hallway. He had no clue what hit him.
“Good,” The voice said, “Now there was a witness in classroom F-6, terminate them now.” I followed orders and sure enough, someone was very pale and pretended not to see me. I walked in. Had them come outside. Their throat was slit as well. This was fun. This was great. “Great Job, could not have done it better myself,” the voice continued, satisfaction evident in the tone, “You’ll find a needle and vial of medicine in your locker, again, only visible to you. Inject it into your entire class. They won’t feel it for three days.” I obeyed. I went around the room, tapped them on the shoulder and injected them in the eye, I don’t know why, it just seemed more fun. They felt nothing. All of them blacked out. “Great Job, and the eye part, where did you come up with that from,” The Voice questioned. I found it rhetorical, as I believed it could read my mind. “I want you to cut their fingers off, and throw them into the closet.” I went around the room with the knife, cutting off fingers one by one, until all we gone. I threw the surprisingly light bodies into the closet. Moments later screams of pain were heard followed by “Where in God’s name did my fingers go! Oh god! What happened!?”
“Great Job.” The voice said. What next? I wondered.
“Your job is done.” A voice replied.
A small explosive in the ear bud of the headset exploded, not enough to kill or hurt, but it caused me to lose all memory. My classmates were never seen again. I wondered what happened. Nobody knew, the police at first suspected me, but when they found out I did not even own a knife, and no chemical existed that was similar to that used to knock them out, they gave all involved an amnesia inducing pill. They claimed an “SCP had caused this”. Whatever that means. My Bluetooth, too, is mysteriously gone…
I participate in a professional box top collecting competition. My name is Joe Boxtop. I want to win. On my first year, the competition was small, friendly, and not really competitive. We were just some people with similar likes and dislikes doing what they love. No prizes were in a pool, no entry fee, and heck, the rules were practically nonexistent. Reading this, you may be thinking “why in the heck is box top collecting so amusing?” You have no right to judge. We do not judge your “stamp” collections that are box tops with pictures on them. Besides, at the end of the competition all box tops go to a school of the winner’s choice, amazing yes? Our hobby helps schools, it helps children learn.
On the second year the number of people exploded. We went from about twenty or so entries into the competition on the first year to a multitude of tens of thousands of people. How they found out, I’ll never know. We had no website, no phone directory, heck, we didn’t even put an ad in the newspaper. This was when the prizes were introduced; it cost twenty dollars to register. 10% of the entry fees went to the original founders, we really did not do much more than administrate the competition, making sure no fakes were introduced. Many were discovered, they forfeited their entry fees.
However, on the third year, things started going wrong. Many of the original twenty started committing suicide by ripping their eyes straight from their sockets. It scared me. I quit for the remainder of the third, and never joined on the fourth. By the fifth year, I was one of three left. I was forced to join. I was scared, but I have no clue why. Nothing seemed wrong…I just…see, I was a bit of a coward, ever since I was born. Bad things followed me everywhere, the only way to survive was to run, run and hide. My parents died in a house fire, they died trying to protect me. I feel very guilty. I have been in an orphanage.
I was checking through all the different box tops, pile after pile, my eyes were hurting badly. Every entrant must have submitted thousands upon thousands, I told myself to think of the millions the school would receive, how I was doing good it failed. The normal ones were not the problem. There was one that caused our deaths. We called it “Shimmer Top” it morphed before your eyes…forced you to rip your eye sockets out. It ended in front of me, and sure enough. I ripped my eyes out. Except, unlike my colleagues, I had lived through the experience, even though I lost much blood from the streams exiting through my sockets. The Foundation arrived shortly later, they claimed to be The Foundation anyway. I’ve never heard of them before, it really seemed like a prank. But when they handcuffed me and took me into custody, labeling me as SCP-10298-2, I knew it was real. They questioned and beat me till I submitted to their whims. I answered every question to the best of my abilities. It was never enough.
The Foundation took my life…I need you to take it back. Use this box top, kill an O5, and my ghost will cease to wander, if you refuse, you shall instead be haunted, they will kill you too. They need no reasons to kill. Good luck.