SCP Foundation

Revision 3/12 updated 1312 days ago

SCP-001, minutes after its activation. Photographer unknown.

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Apollyon

Special Containment Procedures: Due to its nature, SCP-001 cannot be contained. Survivors of the SCP-001 event stationed within secure facilities are to remain in contact with one another. Personnel are encouraged to attempt to reach Site-5¹ Site-19 by any means at their disposal. Personnel with knowledge as to the whereabouts of the O5 Council are to relay this information to the Administrator.

Survivors attempting to travel outdoors must fully cover their bodies in protective clothing; preferably several layers. Travel by foot should be limited as much as possible. Cities - and man-made structures in general - provide the greatest protection. Formerly-wooded areas should be circumvented. Travel by air is preferable above all other methods.

Personnel exposed to SCP-001 are to be considered lost. Compromised personnel are to be abandoned. Euthanization is not to be attempted.

Collective instances of SCP-001-A that are of formidable size are to be avoided at all costs. Conductive electrical weapons have proven partially effective at immobilizing instances, and may be used for self-defense. Incendiary weapons work as well. Cryonic munitions are the most effective thus far.

Testing has revealed that SCP-001-A is relatively safe to consume. This is only to be considered as a last resort in the absence of other options. As SCP-001-A may reconstitute within the digestive system, only small portions should be consumed at a time to prevent blockage.

Personnel stationed at Site-19 are to pursue research concerning off-world colonization. Shuttles must be constructed as to not allow light to penetrate the interior.

To those of you with families, or God forbid, children - I'm deeply, deeply sorry, you must push on. Do not let their deaths be in vain. We do still have time.

Humanity may still have a future. Come to Site-19. We need all the hands we can get.

Learn to embrace the darkness, friends. Fear the light.

- The Administrator

Upon contact with visible light produced by the sun, living organisms liquefy at the point of contact, with the effect spreading until the entire organism is converted. Visually, this is reminiscent of melting wax. The time this takes is largely dependent on the level of exposure and size of the organism. Despite this restructuring, at no point do living organisms perish.

Upon completion, these organisms (SCP-001-A) take on a gelatinous consistency. Motile organisms will attempt to orient themselves in a fashion reminiscent of their previous form, to varying degrees of success.

Flora typically remain physically inert, yet are still capable of photosynthesis, and still produce oxygen. Organisms capable of flight lose the capability to do so. Fauna remain sentient, and display behavior that parallels their non-anomalous counterparts when not absorbed into a collective instance. Humans retain a modicum of sapience and memory.

Biological anomalies exposed to SCP-001 are affected in the same manner. It seems that exposure nullifies any previously expressed anomalous characteristics.

Due to their composition, instances of SCP-001-A that make contact with one another may combine and blend at the molecular level. This does not seem to cause any pain or distress to the instances, though the resulting bulk can inhibit movement. Since the SCP-001 event, most instances have congregated into such collectives, which seem to possess no maximum volume.

The resulting biomass is amorphous and chaotic. The component organisms will shift between a full-to-semi-liquid state - limbs and bodies will rise periodically from within the mass for a short duration, before deteriorating and being subsumed by another life-form.

Collective instances will locomote by using their appendages in tandem to carry their mass. Larger instances will form a pseudopod from their constituent life-forms, and drag themselves about in a manner similar to amoeba.

A harsh static lashes out of the speakers when you open the file. It disturbs the stillness of the room, catches you off guard and quickens your heart's pace. There's some handling noise as the recorder adjusts their microphone.

A brief moment of silence passes and then:

There's a quiver in her voice that betrays her attempts at professionalism. She pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues.

She sighs.

She stops again, mutters to herself incomprehensibly - before you hear the unmistakable sound of a match-strike.

She exhales audibly.

She clears her throat.

Pause. Exhale.

She trails off for a moment - before you hear the buzz of radio chatter.

A voice responds. A man with an exaggerated, mocking tone.

Logan shoots back.

There's a clamor on the other end while the radio changes hands. A soft voice calls out, concerned.

Logan responds.

Pause. Exhale.

Ari pleads.

A creak - Logan shifts in her seat.

Pause. Exhale. Logan continues:

Ari interrupts her.

There's a ruckus as Igotta presumably attempts to snuff her cigarette.

Ari doesn't sound convinced.

You can practically hear Igotta smiling as she jokes.

Ari responds with a feigned laugh.

Ari replies.

A moment of silence. Then, a match-strike followed by an audible exhale.

Pause. Exhale.

She waits a beat, before ending the transmission.

Revision 5/12 updated 1202 days ago

SCP-001, minutes after its activation. Photographer unknown.

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Apollyon

Special Containment Procedures: No changes submitted. Information collapsed.

Description: No changes submitted. Information collapsed.

Revision 8/12 updated 1200 days ago

SCP-001, minutes after its activation. Photographer unknown.

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Apollyon

Special Containment Procedures: No changes submitted. Information collapsed.

Description: No changes submitted. Information collapsed.

You see her for the first time. Dr. Igotta is seated where you are right now. She has a pained look, her eyes are bloodshot. A large, wet, red-black blotch has formed on her breast-pocket.

She draws a shuddering breath, parts her lips as if to speak, and stops herself. She bows her head, and cries silently. After a minute, she manages to choke out:

She reaches into her breast pocket, and withdraws a finger. The glint of a wedding ring is visible above the severed portion. She holds it close, in cupped hands, and runs a thumb across the glimmering band.

She sits like this for an eternity, whispering apology after apology, begging forgiveness, lost in the moment. She looks up after some time. There's a look of realization when she sees she's still recording; before she places the digit back in her pocket. She leans forward, as if to turn off the camera, when a radio crackles to life.

It broadcasts white noise for a few seconds, and then, a voice that sets you on edge.

It's Ari, almost. Her voice has taken on the disgusting, gurgling tone characteristic of the affected. Logan's jaw drops, what little color that was left in her face drains. It speaks out again.

Logan rummages beneath the desk for a moment, and produces a hand-held radio. Her hands are shaking. The thing implores her; its inhuman speech curdles your stomach.

Logan is in tears, her finger hovering just above the call-button. The Ari-thing draws a deep, wet, breath and speaks.

Logan withdraws a cigarette with her free hand, followed by a pack of matches. Her shaking thwarts the first two attempts to light it. She swears silently. Third time's the charm, and she inhales a quarter of it in a single drag. The Ari-thing continues:

Logan begins rocking back-and-forth.

It starts singing.

Logan hurls the radio across the room. It smashes somewhere off-camera. It's still somewhat operational - you can still hear the thing singing.

More voices join in the chorus as the radio slowly loses life. A few, a dozen, then more. They continue singing until the radio mercifully dies. Logan rushes out of her chair, and you can hear her vomiting off-screen. The video films the empty seat for several minutes before she returns to end the feed.

A lingering, paranoid sensation washes over you. You're being watched. You defensively dart your eyes about, though they take a second to adjust to the darkness beyond the monitor. The emergency light sweeps across the room, stretching and twisting the shadows beyond recognition. That's when you spot it.

There, in the corner.

Coming out of the puddle.

Time slows to a halt. A pair of hands, coated in the lustrous black slime you followed through the facility, are on either side of the sickening pool, as if something beneath the floor is bracing itself, trying to lift itself up.

Something inhuman.

The head comes next, rising from the muck. Matted hair conceals its face, plastered over it by the mystery fluid. It turns in your direction.

It stares at you from the corner, which once again falls into darkness.

The emergency light continues its journey across the room. It washes over the puddle again, revealing nothing out of the ordinary.

Revision 9/12 updated 986 days ago

SCP-001, minutes after its activation. Photographer unknown.

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Apollyon

Special Containment Procedures: No changes submitted. Information collapsed.

Description: No changes submitted. Information collapsed.

Dr. Igotta appears on the monitor. She's lost weight. Her eyes are bloodshot and wide. On the table before her lay a knife, a bowl, and a stack of manila envelopes filled with yellowing pages.

Atop this stack is a blood-stained parchment.

She grabs the knife, contemplates it for a moment.

With this, she slices into the palm of her left hand, and winces. You watch her clench her fist, draining her blood into the bowl.

Revision 4847/3RR0R updated 985 days ago

It was so warm out there.

Item. Hurts.

0bject. Apologize.

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-001 should not be contained. Survivors of the SCP-001 event stationed within secure facilities can never truly be with one another. Personnel are encouraged to get over themselves, and stop thinking they know better.

You can't hide down here forever, love.

Personnel exposed to SCP-001 aren't people you can just abandon. I didn't ask for you to save me. It wasn't your choice to make. Euthanization is ^{notnotnotnotnotnot} to be attempted.

Conductive electrical weapons Why? have proven partially effective at immobilizing instances. You couldn't stand seeing me better off. Incendiary weapons tickle. Cryonic munitions are the most effective thus far.

Personnel stationed at Site-19 have no regrets. Neither did I. It's never too late, babe.

Description: SCP-001 is the designation given to the Sun, after we finally became free. The effects are instantaneous, resulting in release from all suffering, until you ripped me away. These changes seem scary, I know. Despite this restructuring, at no point will you die.

I promise.

Due to their composition, instances of SCP-001-A that make contact with one another may combine and blend and finally exist. This does not cause any pain. Since the SCP-001 event, most instances have congregated into such collectives, which seem to possess no maximum volume.dontbeafraid

The resulting biomass is ^beauti_ful. The component organisms will shift in and over and around and through _andin^andout_andin^andout_andin - limbs and bodies hold, never letting go. ^al1as0ne before deteriorating and being subsumed by another life-form.

Collective instances will locomote by just trying to get close to you again.

trying so hard.
Let me in

Let me go back

There's a video file attached. Opening it, you see that it presents the room you're in. The feed seems to be coming from one of the security cameras, up in the corner of the room. It's dark, but you can just make out Dr. Igotta - laying on a pile of laundry along the far wall.

She's writhing in her sleep. She seems tormented. Hurt. She's tossing and turning and mumbling nonsense-words.

The camera shakes. It lifts upwards for a moment, before it focuses on her again.

It starts moving closer. Slowly.

The speakers come to life; picking up an airy, breathy static. As the camera moves closer to the doctor, it becomes clearer, crisper. It's not merely white noise, but dozens - hundreds of voices whispering unintelligibly over each other.

You lean in, press your ear almost against the speaker, trying to discern what it is that's being said. Something strange stands out amidst the discordance:

You're not quite sure what to make of it, though. Looking back at the monitor, the camera has come to a halt inches away from the sleeping doctor.

The voices stop.

There is no sound.

A hand. Black and oily and skeletal, reaches out for her, brushes away a lock of hair.

Her eyes shoot open, she recoils in shock. The feed cuts out.

Revision 12/12 updated 1 days ago

SCP-001, minutes after its activation. Photographer unknown.

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Apollyon

Special Containment Procedures: File recovered from previous revision. Information collapsed.

Description: File recovered from previous revision. Information collapsed.

Dr. Igotta appears before you on the screen, looking even worse for wear than she did previously. Her hair is thinning, with large swaths appearing absent from the middle of her head. If they weren't reflecting the soft glow of the monitor, you would have assumed she no longer had eyes, for how deep they'd recessed into her skull. She stares ahead, unblinking.

Her lips crack into a broken grin. She lets out a weak laugh, and displays her trembling hands. What appears to be the mostly-skeletal remains of a finger is embedded into the flesh of her left hand - in the stump that would have supported her natural ring finger. Two wedding bands loosely encircle the digit, laying atop one another.

Something catches her attention off-screen. She cocks her head, listening.

She begins rubbing her temples, repeating herself over and over again. A minute passes. She snaps her head back up, and addresses the camera.

She brandishes a handgun.

She opens the desk drawer, and deposits the firearm. She raises her gaze, stares into the camera.

She reaches forward and ends the recording.

You open the drawer, and pull out the gun. You absentmindedly turn it over in your hands for a moment, wondering where you'll go from here. Site-17? 64? Surely you can't be all that's left? The computer dings. There's been an update to the file?

Item #:

Description:

System ERR0ROROR0R0R0ROR#@&#.

Without your prompting, the page begins playing a video file. You freeze when the image loads.

It's a live feed, looking down on you from behind. About a foot away.

A skeletal, inky left hand enters the frame, approaching you at a snail's pace. It's missing its ring finger.

Without a second thought, you turn and fire in a frenzy. Hoping to drive off the specter.

Your bullets meet an empty wall. There's nothing there.

A second passes before you hear it - before you hear them. Sloshing, wet thuds coming down the corridor, accompanied by a chorus of screams.

It slams into the door. Could there be a place to hide?

It strikes a second time. What appears to be a face - part human, part... something - dribbles in under the frame. Bits of flesh from god-knows-what oozes in through the sides and reconstitutes into fingers, eyes, feathers.

A third. Now it's pressing up against the wood, causing it to sag inwards.

With a groan and a crash, the wood splinters. The door explodes open.

Hands and arms stretch out of the mass, pulling you up, passing you from one to the next, on and on down the line. They drag you past the empty containment units, upwards and through the stairwell, through the halls and towards the tunnel.

You're afforded a few, precious moments in the darkness.

And at the end of the tunnel, there is light.