He challenged the perimeter team to Wiffleball. There were no survivors.
Recovered alongside SCP-9248. Tests have determined object is non-anomalous.
Item #: SCP-9248
Object Class: Humanoid
Containment Class: Keter Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-9248 is currently contained in an extra-large Safe-class item storage locker located at Site-32. The locker has been filled with concrete in order to prevent any and all access.
[FORMER SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES EXPUNGED AS PER MTF DELTA-4 "Sixth Storm"]
Containment Breach Protocols: Explosives are attached to the side of SCP-9248's containment chamber. It is assumed that the current level of explosive energy is enough to completely destroy SCP-9248. The risk of destruction of other anomalies at this site is considered acceptable collateral damage.
Sports paraphernalia are a common result of SCP-9248's anomalous effects.
Description: SCP-9248 is a male human cadaver, 31 years of age at the time of death. Objects brought within the vicinity of SCP-9248 are occasionally replaced with other objects.
SCP-9248 is identified as Foundation researcher Matthew Martins. Further information on SCP-9248 should not be provided to personnel not associated with Mobile Task Force Delta-4.
Addendum 01: Testing Log
Input
Output
Notes
A blue plastic sparkwheel lighter.
An empty syringe. Interior analysis shows traces of steroids.
Test conducted by accident during recovery.
An electric shock collar, intended to be used on a canine.
A piece of paper from a local basketball club in Arizona banning Rsr. Melvin.
It is of note that Site-11 is in Arizona.
Small battery-powered flashlight.
Metal detector.
N/A
Further testing is currently suspended.
Addendum 02: Operation Rhythm Breaker
Please submit biological, memetic and psychedelic credentials before opening any below files. MTF Delta-4 "Sixth Storm" clearance is required to proceed.
▼ Close File
Incident ID: IR-9248-Condor
Location: Site-17, Floor B3, Section 9
Summary: An unknown humanoid entity appeared in Site-17, outside of SCP-████-A's containment chamber. Said entity overpowered the guards prior to terminating SCP-████-A. See below for a transcript of security camera logs of the incident. Humanoid entity tentatively classified as SCP-9248.
<Begin Log>
<Security camera footage for Foundation Site-17. Cpl. Adam Golding and Cpl. Joel Solomon are stationed at the airlock outside of SCP-████-A's containment chamber.>
Cpl. Golding: Is he just sitting there?
Cpl. Solomon: Uh… yeah. He hasn't moved.
Cpl. Golding: Usually he doesn't do anything. The geezer only gets up once every couple of weeks or so.
Cpl. Solomon: You know, he kind of reminds me of my grandpa.
Cpl. Golding: Really?
Cpl. Solomon: Yeah. Before he passed, he just kind of… sat there. All he would do is stare.
Cpl. Golding: Fuck. I'm sorry.
Cpl. Solomon: It's okay. It was years ago.
<Pause.>
Cpl. Solomon: I don't really remember him that well.
Cpl. Golding: Same with mine. Both of them left before I was born.
Cpl. Solomon: No, like… I don't remember how he was before the dementia.
SCP-9248: Oh.
Cpl. Solomon: It's weird, right? I grew up hearing all these stories about him. How he used to have this magentism about him, about how he could put a smile on anyone's face.
Cpl. Golding: Huh?
Cpl. Solomon: I never got to see that. All I got to see was a bitter old husk who looked like he wanted to kill me.
Cpl. Golding: Like you're watching films about ghosts.
Cpl. Solomon: I guess so. Fuck.
Cpl. Golding: What?
Cpl. Solomon: It's funny how dementia works. Because you can tell he's still thinking, right? His eyes aren't glassed over, he's staring at you like he's desperate to say something. Anything.
SCP-9248: It's weird. Speech and memory tend to go, but there's a lot that remains.
Cpl. Solomon: You know what my last words to him were? When he was on his deathbed?
Cpl. Golding: What?
Cpl. Solomon: I came out as bisexual to him.
SCP-9248: Why?
Cpl. Solomon: I don't know, I wanted to see the anger in his eyes. I could see that he wanted to reach out and choke me. But he couldn't.
<Pause.>
Cpl. Solomon: Thinking on it now, I got it. I wanted him to know that the stories didn't matter. Everything it did, it didn't end the way he wanted it to end. I got the last word.
SCP-9248: Bit of a dick move to do it to an old guy, though.
<Pause. Cpl. Solomon and Cpl. Golding look towards SCP-9248, acknowledging him for the first time.>
Cpl. Golding: Can we help you.
SCP-9248: Sorry. My name is Matthew Martins. I'm from Interdimensional. I'm here for the interview at 3 with SCP-████-A.
Cpl. Solomon: Okay, sure. Let's—
Cpl. Golding: Wait a minute, Joel. This is a Euclid, remember?
Cpl. Solomon: Ah, right. Do you have HMCL authorization?
SCP-9248: Dr. Davis should've sent over the greenlight a few hours ago.
Cpl. Solomon: Huh?
SCP-9248: It probably got lost in the mailnet. I can get it from him later. This interview's of critical importance.
Cpl. Solomon: Sorry, but we can't let you inside.
SCP-9248: I'm busy, it'd delay us to reschedule. Can I see your badge number? I don't want to have to complain.
Cpl. Solomon: Uhh…
<Cpl. Golding puts his hand on his holstered sidearm.>
Cpl. Golding: Actually, I'd like to see yours first.
SCP-9248: Huh?
Cpl. Golding: Dr. Davis retired a month ago. Show me your badge.
SCP-9248: It's in my pocket.
<SCP-9248 reaches into his lab coat. He pulls out a small handgun. Cpl. Golding draws his own handgun. Both point their guns at eachother.>
Cpl. Solomon: Woah!
SCP-9248: I knew I should've done more research.
Cpl. Golding: Drop the gun. Get down on the ground, now!
SCP-9248: Huh. It seems we're in a Shooting contest.
Cpl. Golding: Drop the gun before I blow your—
<All lights in the hallway are extinguished for 2.3 seconds. When the lights come back on, the hallway is substantially wider. Measurement is estimated to be at least 18 meters wide. A volleyball net has manifested in the middle of the hallway. SCP-9248 is standing on the other side of the net. He is no longer wearing a button-down shirt and work khakis; he is instead wearing a Hawaiian shirt, dolphin shorts and sandals.>
SCP-9248: The game is Volleyball. Do you know the rules?
Cpl. Golding: What?
<Cpl. Golding no longer has his gun. He reaches for his holster, which is still empty.>
Cpl. Solomon: How did you—
SCP-9248: The game begins.
Cpl. Golding: Huh?
<SCP-9248 takes a volleyball, moves backwards, then serves it over the net.>
Cpl. Golding: I can still beat your ass.
<Cpl. Golding charges at SCP-9248, but slams into an invisible wall underneath the net.>
SCP-9248: That's against the rules.
<The volleyball bounces on the opposite side of the course.>
Cpl. Golding: You—
<A gunshot rings out. A bullet wound has spontaneously manifests in Cpl. Golding's head. He falls over, lifeless.>
Cpl. Solomon: Gods! What the hell!
SCP-9248: He forfeited the game.
<Pause.>
Cpl. Solomon: Who the hell are you?
SCP-9248: I told you already. I'm Matthew Martins.
Cpl. Solomon: You can… kill people with volleyball?
SCP-9248: Not specifically. He challenged me to a shooting contest. I replaced the shooting contest with volleyball.
Cpl. Solomon: Then how did you—
SCP-9248: The consequences are the same.
Cpl. Solomon: Hmm.
<The volleyball has remanifested in SCP-9248's hands.>
SCP-9248: I didn't come here to kill people. If you forfeit, you'll live.
<Pause.>
Cpl. Solomon: No.
SCP-9248: Really?
<SCP-9248 serves the ball over the net. Cpl. Solomon engages in volleyball form and runs to intercept the ball.>
Cpl. Solomon: I can't let you win.
<Cpl. Solomon hits the ball back over the net, onto SCP-9248's side.>
SCP-9248: You'll really die for the Foundation?
<SCP-9248 moves and hits the ball back. He aims for the other side of the court, where Cpl. Solomon is not.>
Cpl. Solomon: I'm not dying for the Foundation. Hup!
<Cpl. Solomon rushes over to the ball. Diving down, he narrowly prevents the ball from hitting the ground.>
Cpl. Solomon: <Groan.> I don't know who you are. All I know is, I can't let you into that containment chamber.
<Cpl. Solomon quickly recovers, then sets the ball over the net.>
Cpl. Solomon: If you're willing to kill for it…
SCP-9248: Hum. Your funeral.
<SCP-9248 quickly jumps up and spikes the ball into the ground. Cpl. Solomon doesn't have a chance to react before the ball slams into the other side.>
Cpl. Solomon: How—
<Cpl. Solomon immediately sustains five gunshot wounds to the chest, despite wearing full body armor. The lights extinguish for 2.3 seconds again. When they come back on, the hallway has returned to normal dimensions. The volleyball net is gone, and SCP-9248 is once again wearing formal clothes.>
SCP-9248: In college, I spent my freshman year playing on the volleyball team. You never stood a chance.
<Cpl. Solomon coughs blood before collapsing onto the ground. SCP-9248 collects his badge, then uses his badge and his biometrics to open SCP-████-A's containment chamber. He walks inside.>
SCP-████-A: Hello, traveler.
SCP-9248: I have a question for you.
SCP-████-A: You may ask it. Be wary, for the answer isn't always what you seek.
SCP-9248: Yeah, yeah. What would the world look like without you?
<SCP-████-A looks surprised and appears substantially more lucid.>
SCP-████-A: You dare strike me down?
SCP-9248: It's the only way.
SCP-████-A: You won't get the chance. Medila will rend you—
<SCP-9248 fires his gun seven times into SCP-████-A's chest. He presses the trigger ten times, but his magazine is half empty. For an unknown reason, SCP-████-A's regeneration factor does not activate.>
<As SCP-9248 leaves the containment chamber. At this point, the containment breach alarm activates.>
SCP-9248: About time.
<SCP-9248 leaves the view of the camera.>
<End Log>
Closing Notes: The gunshot wounds sustained by Cpl. Golding and Cpl. Solomon were identified to be from a gun of the same make and model used by SCP-9248.
▼ Close File
Location: Site-17 Situation Room
Summary: Site-17's leadership convened in the Situation Room to discuss Incident 9248-CONDOR. Discussion was led by Director Joeseph Armstrong, the officer in charge of the Site-17 Containment Failure Management Department (CFMD).
<Begin Log>
Dir. Armstrong: Jamie, where the fuck is that file?
Mr. Loge: It's printing, s-sir.
Dir. Armstrong: You didn't print it out ahead of time?
<Pause.>
Dir. Malhauson: Alfred, if you please.
Dr. Caldera: Thank you, Site Director. Recorder's running.
<Pause.>
Dr. Caldera: At 1500 hours, an unknown humanoid entity—
Dir. Malhauson: SCP-9248.
Dir. Armstrong: Are you serious? You gave him a number?
Dir. Malhauson: Joe…
Dir. Armstrong: I swear to God, if we give a number to everyone who fucks with us, we'll be in the five digits before sundown.
Dir. Malhouson: Joe, let Dr. Caldera finish his sentence so we can all move on with our lives.
<Pause.>
Dr. Caldera: As I was saying, SCP-9248 infiltrated Site-17 and reached the containment cell of SCP-████-A. He subdued the guards, entered the cell, and terminated SCP-████-A.
Dir. Armstrong: He "subdued" the guards?
Dr. Caldera: He… played volleyball with them.
Dir. Armstrong: Now this is the part where you tell me it's death volleyball or something.
Dr. Ruta: When the ball hit the plane, it blew out their brains.
Dir. Armstrong: Huh?
Dr. Caldera: He challenged the perimeter team to Wiffleball. There were no survivors.
Dir. Armstrong: How'd he get in?
Dr. Caldera: He appears to be a doppelganger or variant of Researcher Matthew Martins, a level 2 researcher in our Interdimensional Department. He used biometric measures, as well as a stolen cell phone, to get into the Site.
Dir. Armstrong: Where's the real Martins now? They could have collaborated.
Dr. Ruta: He was in a test with the space dune. Calvin's grilling him now, we should have something soon.
Dir. Armstrong: Why are you rhyming?
Dir. Malhauson: That's Dr. Ruta, HMCL Supervisor for a couple dozen anomalies. If he doesn't rhyme, a giant crab eats San Francisco.
Dr. Caldera: Thank you for your service.
Dr. Ruta: It's the least I can do, I do it for you.
Mr. Loge: File's printed out, sir.
Dir. Armstrong: Took long enough.
<Dir. Armstrong takes the page and starts reading.>
Dir. Armstrong: Item number: SCP-████… Jamie?
Mr. Loge: Yes, sir?
Dir. Armstrong: Did you spill black ink on this?
Mr. Loge: No…
Dir. Armstrong: Then why the fuck is this redacted?
Mr. Loge: Uhh…
Dir. Malhauson: I have Level 4 clearance. We can try with that.
Dir. Armstrong: So do I. What… what's "Sixth Storm"? Jamie, look that up.
Mr. Loge: That's… Mobile Task Force Delta Four. Black ops parascience team, I can barely find any info about them.
Dir. Malhauson: Delta Four? I don't know much about them. They have an office here.
Dir. Armstrong: Jamie, call them. I want to know why this skip's a target, ASAP.
Mr. Loge: Yes, sir.
<Dir. Armstrong pinches the brow of his nose. He leans close to the table.>
Dir. Armstrong: Do we have any idea where he is?
Dir. Malhauson: No. He trashed his cell phone, and he's dodging security cameras. We've scrambled Lambda-5 to try to find him.
Dir. Armstrong: Fuck, it's been hours. He could be anywhere.
<Rsr. Calvin and Rsr. Martins enter the Situation Room. Rsr. Calvin is holding a Blackberry smart phone.>
Rsr. Calvin: Sorry to interrupt—
Dir. Armstrong: God damn it! Do you people knock?
<Rsr. Calvin clears his throat.>
Rsr. Calvin: While I was talking to Rsr. Martins—
Rsr. Martins: Hello.
Rsr. Calvin: —his phone rang. It's SCP-9248.
Dir. Armstrong: He's calling us?
Rsr. Calvin: He tried calling Rsr. Martins.
Dir. Armstrong: Damn it. Okay. Keep calm. This is a good thing. Jamie?
Mr. Loge: Sir?
Dir. Armstrong: Call Marco from Beta-Four, he has triangulation equipment. We need to figure out where this guy is, now.
Mr. Loge: Yes, sir.
<Mr. Loge leaves the room.>
Dir. Armstrong: Unmute him, put him on speaker. Let's keep him talking.
Rsr. Calvin: Aye.
<Rsr. Calvin puts the cell phone on the table and unmutes it.>
Dir. Armstrong: <To SCP-9248.> Turn yourself in now, and I can guarantee you'll get a cushy containment cell.
SCP-9248: Not the time for negotiations. I wanted to talk to the other version of myself.
Rsr. Martins: Me?
SCP-9248: Yes, and only you.
Dir. Armstrong: Not happening.
SCP-9248: Neither is turning myself in.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: I have a proposition.
<Dir. Armstrong leans in.>
Dir. Armstrong: What?
SCP-9248: Are you familiar with the name "Kadeshum?"
Rsr. Martins: No?
Dir. Armstrong: Should I be?
SCP-9248: Forget it, I don't have time to explain. Do you want seas of blood, endless suffering and the end of all civialization?
<Pause.>
Dir. Armstrong: What do you want?
SCP-9248: All I want is to save this planet.
Dir. Armstrong: By breaking into our sites? Killing our people?
SCP-9248: They were in the way.
Dir. Armstrong: Bullshit.
SCP-9248: I need to save the world. I don't have time to let people stop me.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: That's my proposition. Let me into Site-11. That's where my next target is.
Dir. Armstrong: You want to just walk into Site-11?
SCP-9248: It's a win-win. You get a Keter-class anomaly taken off your hands. No one gets hurt.
Dir. Armstrong: You expect me to believe that destroying these anomalies won't have side effects?
SCP-9248: I don't expect you to believe anything. I'll be inside Site-11 whether you want me to be there or not. I'm offering you the easy way out.
<Pause.>
Dir. Armstrong: How do we know this isn't a con? That you won't grab a nuke and explode?
SCP-9248: You're stalling for time.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: I've been given a boon by an entity known as "Medila". As far as I know, it doesn't have a number.
Dir. Armstrong: Is this your magic trick?
SCP-9248: Medila represents transformation. The act of turning something into something else. Something roughly equivalent.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: Much like how any P-compatible algorithm can be turned into another P-compatible algorithm, I can turn any game into any other game. Your security teams challenged me to a shootout. I played table tennis instead.
Dir. Armstrong: I figured as much. Why are you telling me this?
SCP-9248: So you know you can't stop me. I can trap the entirety of Site-11 in a basketball game. I'll win.
Dir. Armstrong: You're mad.
SCP-9248: I'm the madman who will save this world.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: I expect the site to be open.
<SCP-9248 hangs up the phone.>
Agent Malroy: We couldn't get an accurate trace. He's certainly still in the Nevada Desert.
Dir. Armstrong: Damn it.
<Pause.>
Dr. Caldera: Obviously, we can't just let him into Site-11.
Dir. Armstrong: Obviously, that was a bluff. He's trying to get us to focus on Site-11 so we don't focus on something else.
Dir. Malhauson: Agreed. I'll send out an alert. I'll wire a message to the director of Site-11, just in case.
Dir. Armstrong: Jamie, comb the database for the word "Medila". I want to know what he's actually after.
Rsr. Martins: What should I do… sir?
Dir. Armstrong: You get back in a cell. I don't trust you yet.
<End Log>
▼ Close File
Incident ID: IR-9248-Pidgeon
Location: Site-98c
Background: Site-98c is a former SCIF. It was acquired by the Foundation and is used as a satellite site for the nearby Site-98. Most personnel at the site believe it does not contain any anomalies. However, its proximity to critical phone infrastructure makes it the ideal place to contain SCP-████-2.
Summary: SCP-9248 entered Site-98c, greviously injured all of the personnel there, then terminated SCP-████-2.
<Begin Log>
<SCP-9248 walks into the site. The facade of the site is designed to appear to be a non-anomalous financial institution, as per SCIF standards.>
SCP-9248: Hello.
Mrs. Shewd: Hi! Do you have an appointment?
SCP-9248: I'm Dr. Nathaniel, from Assets. I'm here to talk to Director Broughter.
Mrs. Shewd: Let me check for appointments.
<Pause.>
Mrs. Shewd: Sorry, we don't have your appointment on the record.
SCP-9248: It must've gotten lost in the mailnet. You mind calling him?
Mrs. Shewd: Sure.
<Mrs. Shewd picks up the desk phone. At this point, on-site security calls Mrs. Shewd and informs her of the recent broadcast from Site-17.>
Mrs. Shewd: Please wait here.
<Mrs. Shewd leaves the room. At this point, the site lockdown protocol activates; a blast door seals all exits from the reception area.>
SCP-9248: What's this?
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: Is this is a containment chamber?
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: You're not playing any games?
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: Meaning, I can't swap out the game for anything else.
<Pause. SCP-9248 walks over to the intercom system.>
SCP-9248: I've lost the element of surprise.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: You are playing one game right now though. Hide and seek.
<Lights turn off for 2.3 seconds. When they come back on, every member of personnel at Site-98c is sitting in one room. Several tables have manifested with computers of varying make and model.>
SCP-9248: Have you heard of Overwatch?
[DATA EXPUNGED]
<After demanifestation, all of Site-98c's personnel are either gravely injured or dead. SCP-████-2 has been erased following the event.>
<End Log>
▼ Close File
Interviewer: Rsr. Martins
Interviewee: SCP-9248
Summary: SCP-9248 smuggled a cell phone into Site-17 during his time there and had it delivered to Rsr. Martins. An interview was conducted over the phone.
<Begin Log>
Rsr. Martins: Who is this?
SCP-9248: It's you.
Rsr. Martins: Fuck. How'd you get this phone in here?
SCP-9248: I handed this to a D-Class and paid him five cigarettes to get it to you.
Rsr. Martins: Why?
SCP-9248: I need your help.
<Pause.>
Rsr. Martins: Why in the world would I help you? You've put me in a jail cell.
SCP-9248: I'm sorry; I only realized I had an equivalent in this reality a few weeks ago. I also apologize for breaking into your house and stealing your documents. I didn't really think…
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: I have a pitch.
Rsr. Martins: Okay.
SCP-9248: Do you think the Foundation is in the position to prevent an apocalypse?
Rsr. Martins: You mentioned that. What's the threat?
SCP-9248: I already talked about "Medila". She's an old god. Older than dirt. The representation of transformation.
Rsr. Martins: I know that. What threat does she pose?
SCP-9248: She wants to wage some kind of cosmic war against the heavens. I'm not clear on the details. All I know is that she wants to break down Earth for base resources and manpower.
Rsr. Martins: You're bluffing.
SCP-9248: I'm not. I know because I met her.
Rsr. Martins: How.
SCP-9248: Obviously, I'm from another reality. The Foundation there betrayed me. They left me to die in a world of grease.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: I escaped with my soul and nothing else. I wandered the Mesh for a while, until I happened upon Medila. She made me her soldier and told me to fight her war on Earth.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: I decided to save Earth instead. I know about three of her soldiers; I already took out the old man and the computer virus.
Rsr. Martins: Who's next.
SCP-9248: Would you tell the others if I told you?
Rsr. Martins: Good point.
<Pause.>
Rsr. Martins: So you're saying, help you, I stop the world from being eaten.
SCP-9248: Yes.
Rsr. Martins: You understand I've sworn loyalty to the Foundation.
SCP-9248: Does that matter?
Rsr. Martins: I'm sorry?
SCP-9248: Only loyalty to your principles matter, in the end.
Rsr. Martins: What if my principles are to stop you from destroying our anomalies?
SCP-9248: The Foundation doesn't care about you. Believe me. I know.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: Think about it. Remember, you can only trust yourself. I need a teammate.
<SCP-9248 hangs up the phone.>
<End Log>
▼ Close File
Location: Site-17 Situation Room
Summary: Site-17's leadership convened in the Situation Room to discuss Incident 9248-PIDGEON, as well as the above communication between Rsr. Martins and SCP-9248. Discussion was led by Director Joeseph Armstrong, the officer in charge of the Site-17 Containment Failure Management Department (CFMD).
<Begin Log>
Mr. Loge: Are you having a bad day, sir?
Dir. Armstrong: I'm in charge of dealing with breaches. I'm always having a bad fucking day.
Dir. Malhauson: We've brought in Dr. Finch from Delta-4.
<Dr. Finch enters the room. Dr. Caldera offers him a seat, but he remains standing.>
Dr. Finch: I really wish he didn't bring up Medila.
Dir. Armstrong: I'm sorry?
Dr. Finch: It means the cleanup for this incident is going to be messy.
Dir. Armstrong: You're going to amnesticize us?
Dr. Finch: Never mind that. Clearly, he's targeting anomalies associated with Entity-57.
Dir. Armstrong: Good. Where's he attacking next?
Dr. Finch: We've narrowed it down to four anomalies. Here's the list.
<Pause while Dir. Armstrong reads the list.>
Dir. Armstrong: He's can't go for SCP-███ or SCP-3095. Those sites have Scranton Reality Anchors. He wouldn't be able to do anything.
Dr. Finch: I also doubt he could successfully terminate SCP-█████. Even with his boon from Entity-57, he probably couldn't win in a fight.
Dir. Armstrong: That leaves… fuck me.
Dr. Caldera: What is it?
Dir. Armstrong: What's an anomaly at Site-19 that transforms one thing into another thing?
Dr. Caldera: Fuck. He's going after SCP-914?
<End Log>
▼ Close File
Incident ID: IR-9248-Pidgeon
Location: Site-19, Facility 23
Summary: SCP-9248 entered Site-19 in an attempt to destroy SCP-914, only to be terminated.
<Begin Log>
<SCP-9248 enters Facilty 23. Using his anomalous abilities, he has tunneled into the chamber by replacing the act of tunneling with a marathon. He emerges from the tunnel, covered in dirt.>
SCP-9248: Hello, soldier. It was subtle, making you a tool.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: Can you… answer me?
<The light in the facility comes on. SCP-9248 is surrounded on all sides by security personnel. Dir. Armstrong is leading the security forces.>
Dir. Armstrong: You're surrounded on all sides. This is your last chance. Stand down.
SCP-9248: Come on. Did you really think this would work?
<The lights come off for 2.3 seconds. When the lights come on, the area has been transformed into a basketball court. There is a duplicate of SCP-9248.>
Dir. Armstrong: So, where do the duplicates come from?
SCP-9248: Basketball is two on two. The rules say that. So I need someone to fill in for me.
Dir. Armstrong: What if someone was already on your team?
SCP-9248: What?
<Rsr. Martins walks onto the court. SCP-9248's duplicate vanishes into smoke.>
Rsr. Martins: You said you needed help, right? That's means I'm on your team.
SCP-9248: No. I reject.
Rsr. Martins: You already offered. It's too late to back out now.
SCP-9248: Damn it.
Dir. Armstrong: That was plan B. I wasn't sure the rules would work that way.
SCP-9248: What was plan A?
Dir. Armstrong: I played football in college.
<Dir. Armstrong takes off his jacket and tie.>
Dir. Armstrong: Let's play.
<SCP-9248 starts with the ball. He dribbles over to the side of the court. Rsr. Martins stays still, Dir. Armstrong moves to block him. Sgt. Peter moves to mid-court.>
SCP-9248: All I need to do is score one point. Come on…
<SCP-9248 shoots for the hoop. However, Rsr. Martins jumps up and catches the ball.>
Rsr. Martins: Whoops.
<Rsr. Martins allows Dir. Armstrong to steal the ball. Despite SCP-9248's best efforts, Dir. Armstrong leaps up and "dunks" the ball into the hoop.>
Dir. Armstrong: Hell yeah!
SCP-9248: God damn i—
<SCP-9248 suddenly experiences twenty simultaneous gunshot wounds, causing his body to spasm rapidly. The light turns off; when it comes back on, SCP-9248 is bleeding out on the floor.>
Dir. Armstrong: Check his pulse.
Rsr. Martins: He's alive. How?
Dir. Armstrong: Good. Peters, tie him up, get him out of here.
<Sgt. Peters works on tying together SCP-9248's hands and feet.>
Dir. Armstrong: Are you okay, Matthew?
Rsr. Martins: Sorry. It's a little surreal to be looking at my own corpse.
Dir. Armstrong: He's not you.
Rsr. Martins: I know. But the way he talked… how close was I to becoming him?
Dir. Armstrong: Not close at all.
Rsr. Martins: Will I forget this?
Dir. Armstrong: I think so. Dr. Finch from Delta-4 looped in Executive Director Adrian. He's making the amnestics call now, for all of us.
<Pause.>
Rsr. Martins: Can I have a minute?
Dir. Armstrong: Fine.
<End Log>
▼ Close File
Interviewer: Dr. Finch, Executive Director Adrian
Interviewee: SCP-9248
Foreword: SCP-9248 was interviewed prior to being moved to Site-32.
<Begin Log>
Dir. Adrian: You're sure the serum will work?
Dr. Finch: It's worked before. He'll live; he's thaumturgically charged enough that twenty gunshots didn't kill him. This won't either.
Dir. Adrian: If this goes wrong, the Council will have my head. My rank won't matter there.
Dr. Finch: We need to find out what he knows about Entity-57. Why he was really here.
<Dr. Finch injects SCP-9248 with [DATA EXPUNGED]. SCP-9248 inhales a breath and returns to consciousness.>
SCP-9248: I'm… alive?
Dr. Finch: For now. Tell me why you're on Earth.
<Pause.>
Dr. Finch: If you're trying to kill me with your abilities, it won't work here.
SCP-9248: I already said. I'm here to eliminate Medila's soldiers.
Dr. Finch: You did say that. It's also a stupid reason. Now, what's the real reason?
SCP-9248: What? I mean what I say.
<Pause. Dr. Finch laughs.>
Dr. Finch: God, you are a massive idiot.
Dir. Adrian: Huh?
SCP-9248: What?
Dr. Finch: You think Exchange is the only entity that's interested in Earth?
SCP-9248: Exchange?
Dr. Finch: Yes. The primal force that Medila is an avatar of.
<Pause.>
Dr. Finch: You didn't know that? You killed 30 people and you didn't even know who you were working for?
SCP-9248: …no.
Dr. Finch: Do you know how hard I've worked to keep the balance in check? Now that you've hurt Exchange, Mercy and Logic are moving in to fill that void. It could be a decisive edge.
<Pause.>
Dr. Finch: We're going to have to create 15 new anomalies, just to stabilize us.
Dir. Adrian: I'm sorry? Fifteen?
Dr. Finch: A lot of work to patch up what this interloper's done.
<Pause.>
SCP-9248: I just wanted to save the world.
Dr. Finch: So does everybody else.
<Dr. Finch shoots SCP-9248, causing him to lose consciousness again.>
Dir. Adrian: Jesus.
Dr. Finch: Send him to Site-32, tell the researchers he's a corpse, make up a cover story. Encase him in concrete the first chance you get.
Dir. Adrian: You're giving me orders?
Dr. Finch: Do you want to keep this under wraps or not?
<End Log>