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}SCP-7812's breach point, pictured using the Fehn cognitoscope prototype.
Special Containment Procedures:
Medical databases and treatment centers worldwide will be monitored for any incidence of Culebra-Simmons Syndrome.
Individuals showing symptomology of Culebra-Simmons Syndrome are to be administered invitro Class-A amnestics until the affected individual has exhibited a complete loss of self. Despite the extreme nature of these procedures, they have shown to be the only bulwark against the expansion of SCP-7812 and thus, the Ethics Committee has unanimously approved the procedures.
Alternative containment procedures are being researched and will be amended at such time as a less invasive measure can be found to contain the expansion of SCP-7812.
All attempts are to be made to either contain or neutralize SCP-7812-A, using whatever means necessary.
“All I am is saying is you’d be dead if I hadn’t shown up.”
“I didn’t ask for your help, Marquez.”
“So, because you didn’t ask for help, I was supposed to leave you on that rooftop?”
“She was already leaving when you showed up.”
“And if she hadn’t, I would have stepped in.”
“Why didn’t you step in a little earlier? Then maybe we could be free of this bitch.”
“Make up your mind, did you want me to help or not?”
Rebekah Douglas stood from the cracked leather sofa she was sitting on and walked towards a window. She was still groggy from whatever the Daevite had done to her. They were in a dusty office building, overlooking an abandoned business park. Desks and chairs filled the hall outside, piled up on one another, pushed to the side to allow for some egress from the maze.
“Where the hell did you bring me?”
“We’re on the outskirts of Berlin. I own this building.”
“You’re a slum lord?”
“It’s been unused for a few years, thought it might be a good place to hole up while we figured out our next move.”
“Why didn’t you just deliver me to the Foundation people that were right there?”
“If we’re going to kill the Matriarch, we can’t bloody well do it with them looking over our shoulder.”
Rebekah laughed and turned back to the anomalous man who had effectively kidnapped her.
“We? We’re going to kill the Matriarch. I thought you were working with Varga, made a deal with the Foundation and everything.”
“They want to contain her. Put her in a box somewhere and study her. I know all I need to about her and her people. Enough to know she needs to die. Do you need to know more?”
Rebekah looked down at her boots. She touched the athame lying on the couch next to where she had been.
“I know enough.”
Description:
SCP-7812 is a colossal extrocorporeal infestation in an adjacent reality forming a metaphysical abscess bleeding through a punctum into this reality’s noösphere. The breach point of SCP-7812 is centered around the area of the noösphere provisionally classified as the famis occulta.
Fehn cognitoscope in cross section.
Expansion of SCP-7812 has grown steadily ever since observation of the anomaly began. The rate of expansion has slowed now that Foundation forces have begun containment operations, but not ceased entirely. The danger of SCP-7812’s expansion is that it can theoretically consume and assimilate the conceptual human understanding of nourishment/consumption, including abstract derivations of the ideatic concept. Given the symptomology of Culebra-Simmons Syndrome, continuing expansion would have devastating effects on human society in unpredictable ways.
A series of anomalous effects in baseline reality have been traced to SCP-7812:
- Widespread decrease in empathy presented in media – particularly a focus on psychopathic or villainous protagonists, often bordering on obsession with serial killers and true crime.
- Rapid degradation of critical thinking concerning the legal and moral consequences of business practices on a societal level.
- Culebra-Simmons Syndrome [See below]
Despite its discovery in early October 1993, noöspherical analysis has discovered that the anomaly first made contact with this reality in 1957 and has been expanding ever since. The first examples of Culebra-Simmons Syndrome had been present without Foundation knowledge since 1991, however.
SCP-7812-A is the individual formerly known as ███████ ███████, patient zero and primary vector for Culebra-Simmons Syndrome, and a 31-year-old female former Foundation employee.
“Hold on, why the hell are you helping me?” Rebekah asked. She opened a bottle of mineral water and took a swig. They had moved away from the office into a conference room Euboea had turned into a kitchen of sorts, with burner plate and minifridge.
“That’s a complicated subject.”
“We have time.”
Euboea sighed and sat at the conference table, folding his hands over his stomach.
“For one thing, you seem to be the only one of your organization interested in killing her. Containment does not shield my people from harm. We need her gone.”
“Aren’t many of your people working with Varga now?”
“Some, but that hardly changes anything. Anyone I have touched is her target, as you saw in the desert.”
“I don’t want to talk about that. I fucked everything up.”
“Maybe Captain Zadeh would have died that day without your actions, it was a dangerous event.”
“Maybe. But I’m not letting myself off the hook that easy.”
He smiled sadly. “I understand.”
“So why else?”
He sighed again. “I feel responsible for you, for your predicament.”
“What happened in that other world?”
“I’m sure my tinkering with your consciousness when we first met left your defenses down.”
“Right, thanks again for that.”
He was silent for a moment and went to the fridge to withdraw a plastic container with soup. He took out a pan and emptied the contents into it and started the burner. He began to stir the contents with a wooden spoon.
“Why does the Matriarch have beef with you?”
“Several millennia ago, my Father destroyed her civilization. Or at least, provided a final stroke in the killing blow that history and various other power struggles had started. The Daevites were strong for a very long time, thousands of years really. But eventually, they began to weaken. Rebellions from the Nälkän people, competing nation states, and honestly, they were an evolutionary dead end. They spent so much time preserving their life, they failed to innovate. You’ve seen how she uses the same tactics in multiple conflicts? Overwhelm with numbers. That’s what they did so often in the end. Slave armies made up of conquered peoples and thaumaturgic constructs. And that’s what she tried when my Father created a stronghold in her territory.”
“The tower in Russia.”
He stirred as he nodded. “Her forces surprised us and ravaged the stronghold. All the work we had done there was lost.”
“Looked like a goddamn torture gallery.”
“No, not torture. We were making new people, new life forms. Trying to elevate mankind.”
“Fucked up way to go about that. Making monsters.”
“They weren’t monsters, but it’s not important enough to debate about. We wanted… well, he wanted to elevate men, to better survive the anomalous, the magical. Human beings are incredibly vulnerable and despite all the work the Foundation has done to hide away the horrors, this is still a very dangerous world.”
“Where did he come from?”
“I don’t know the details really, He didn’t confide in me so much as order me around, but they are a wandering species. System to system, interfering with the natural order and seeding life.”
“So, it is literally an alien species.”
“Yes, ‘it’ is. They all are. And it’s hard to understand them, like so many advanced beings. But I can say this, they’re fickle. They think the work is done and they move on.”
“Not your pops, right?”
“No, He stayed. They left him and he stayed to oversee the development of life. Eventually, I think he became lonely or wanted a catspaw to interact with the apes, so he made me.”
“Like in a test tube?”
“No, he took me from my tribe. This was nearly twenty thousand years ago, give or take, so it’s not very clear in my mind.”
“Come on.”
“I’m serious. I’ve done some research, and I was basically a caveman in central Asia when he took me. My tribe didn’t have a name other than the people; we barely knew other people existed. He plucked me up and shaped me, made me into this.”
“You said he was alone, but we saw another one in Boston.”
“Some of them came back to see how He was doing. They wanted very little to do with me when they found out He was dead, but they stayed for a while to help me.”
“With?”
“My people.”
“Whatever you did to your cultists.”
“I made them like me. To an extent.”
“Which is what?”
“A conduit for thaumaturgy. Instead of rites or rituals, we can simply access that power. Your Captain Zadeh, she had to put tremendous energy into preparing for her thaumaturgy, right?”
“I don’t know that much about it but yeah, she would prep evocations before hand to be used in the thick of things.”
“Right, well my people don’t have to do that. Neither do I.”
“So, like, are they immortal too? Super strong, all that?”
“No. I don’t know what my father did to me to make those things happen, it seems to defy the structural physics of a human body.”
He ceased stirring the soup and ladled some of it into a bowl which he passed to her. “You haven’t eaten in nearly a day. Eat.”
She took the bowl and ate a spoonful. Cream of asparagus.
“Let’s go back for a minute, why did your father murder the Daevites?”
“I thought it was revenge at the time, but looking back, I think he didn’t see another option. Here was a group of the humans he was trying to elevate, stuck in the mud and loving it, refusing to move an inch. All the while, threatening the work he was doing. I think he saw them as counter to everything he was working for. He wasn’t what you call a sentimental creature.”
He took a sip of the soup from his own bowl.
“All these years later and she hates any vestige of His influence. You saw the forces she brought to bear in the desert, she won’t stop until I and all those I have guided are dead.”
“But how do we stop her?”
ADDENDUM 7812.1: Culebra-Simmons Syndrome:
SCP-7812 has been traced to the development of a relatively rare cognitive dysfunction designated as Culebra-Simmons Syndrome, the relevant symptoms of which are as follows:
- Intermittent aphasia
- Intermittent involuntary vocalizations
- Progressive delusions about one’s body of various dysmorphic conditions, but a universal component is the delusion that the individual requires much more sustenance than is healthy for a typical human being of similar body type
- Inability to moderate tone of voice
- [In advanced cases]
- Aggression and hostility, leading to violence
- pica syndrome-like behavior
- aggressive “hunting” behavior where affected individuals attack and eat living creatures without cooking them – i.e. wild rodents, lizards, birds, domesticated pets, and in several cases, human beings.
Physical degradation of the human genome has been noted in people exhibiting symptoms of Culebra-Simmons Syndrome leading to: diminishing function of the ocular and sexual organs, diminished pain response, and increased sensitivity to gustatory and olfactory organs. It is predicted that without containment protocols, this degradation will progress until the eyes and genitals are no longer functional and eventually will disappear entirely from the human species in future generations.
Culebra-Simmons originates with the infection designated as SCP-7812, but it is transmitted from person to person through conversation of ideas concerning relevant subjects such as hunger, famine, starvation, diet, culinary arts, taste or even the abstract concept of consumption – such as the “consumption of media.”
Amnesticization has proven effective in treating those displaying early symptoms of Culebra-Simmons Syndrome, but only with multiple infusions of Class A amnestics leading to loss of identity similar to clinical retrograde amnesia. Foundation forces have made a comprehensive survey of mental health records on an international basis, identifying over three hundred thousand individuals worldwide who have sought mental health treatment or were involuntarily hospitalized due to what was obviously Culebra-Simmons Syndrome given the discovery of SCP-7812.
Individuals with advanced Culebra-Simmons tend to congregate together as the condition progresses, forming loose knit communities in abandoned spaces which they defend aggressively.
“I think you might be able to help in that,” he said.
“Why? I haven’t had much luck so far.”
“You hurt her, with that knife of yours. More importantly you scared her.”
“Did I?”
“You weren’t yourself, but yes. You spoke in another voice, shunted off her control, and even stabbed her with the athame.”
Rebekah lowered her head into her hands.
“How did you manage that?”
Her eyes downcast, she shook her head still cradled in her hands.
“Agent Douglas?”
“I don’t fucking know! Alright?”
“But… you have an idea.”
Rebekah nodded.
“The thing in the other world, the one that touched you.”
She nodded again.
“What do you think it is?”
ADDENDUM 7812.2: Historical and Cultural References
In an attempt to research cultural references to SCP-7812, the Department of History was commissioned with a wide scope survey project resulting in several significant mythological and traditional narratives that seemingly reference to SCP-7812. In particular, references in the Daevite and Sarkic traditions were found to be relevant.
Excerpt from SCP-140
Existence cascades from the source of all: the Spark, the Mouth, the Font
From out of the Font, came not only the Breath and pure lineage of the Daeva
But Four beings of Light spun out of existence
Four Servants to the Will of They who created All
To guard the world and ensure the ascendancy of the unpolluted Mothers
Thus the Blood will rule forever
For They who created all, whose dreams shape the universe
Will never be dethroned
Excerpt from A History of “A Chronicle of the Daeva” by Dr. Wentworth Sullivan:
The Daevite faith did not have saints or bodhisattvas, theirs was a religious practice concerned with veneration of life itself as a nebulous force they called the Font and veneration of the holy lineage of Daeva matriarchs. However, in the tradition there were four ethereal beings that the Daeva claimed were formed of the stuff of the universe yet had no form. These were the closest thing to angels to the Daeva, which they called the Agents of Life, these entities were unknowable but their influence extruded into the physical realm on behalf of the Font.
It was not common practice for the Daevite matriarchs to pray but on occasion a matriarch would beseech one of these four Agents of Life. This was considered an act of desperation, only to be taken if the lineage was at risk. Apparently, the Daeva believed that to seek the favor of the Font’s emissaries required a sacrifice far beyond the usual bloodletting in their rituals. During the many coexisting collapses of the Daevite civilization detailed in the Chronicle of the Daeva, this action was only noted as taking place once; such was the requisite cost of life that it was simply impractical.
—
Based on prior involvement with SCP-7812-A, Judith Low found reference to SCP-7812 in the writings of a vanished Sarkic community with ties to Romania:
Excerpt from the Valkzaron
The heaving Devourer cast out in its fetid mindlessness
For companions of equal hunger
Four were crafted from the flesh of the newborn material realm
Mewling, formless things that served the Devourer
Faceless eternal impotence and hunger
Ever yearning to escape the turbulent darkness of The Outer Void
and into the physical world created by Yaldabaoth
The Archons ache to consume the cosmos one world at a time
Until their teeth have torn through final surviving world,
and the Great Winnower is revenged upon its creation
Which will return the universe to its birth state – without Light
Excerpt from Detailing the Cosmology of the Ancient Sarkite by Dr. Judith Low:
The Grand Karcist taught that the Demiurge, Yaldabaoth or the Devourer, was mindless, without foresight or consciousness, and purely an instinctual creator/prophesized destroyer of the material universe. But, despite its apparent ego-less existence, the Devourer apparently felt lonely, thus did it create four entities to serve as its pantheon.
These were the Archons, four servants of the Demiurge and the actual builders of the physical universe on behalf of it. These entities were not wholly of the universe – faceless and formless but with agency and consciousness of a sort. According to ancient Sarkic myth, the Archons were the embodiment of primordial chaos, stretching into the material realm to sew the seeds of destruction. This took the form of natural disasters in general, but in specific, the Archons were the engineers of the Six Ordeals of Ion – in an effort to defeat him before prior to his ascendancy.
It is said that the Archons cannot reach into our universe, because they originate in the outer void, a kingdom of darkness where no life can persist. It is the goal of each Archon to pierce the veil of the material realm and fully manifest so as to consume the world, even to a conceptual level.
This has a rather interesting wrinkle, in that one of the core tenets of the Sarkite faith is “To Shepherd the Flesh.” According to Ion’s teachings, all life in the universe comes from a single progenitor, the Demiurge. All life has a shared ancestry, venerated in the form of flesh crafting – labelled by the Foundation as carnomancy and by the Sarkite as “Lihakut'ak” – stemming from “Weri” or “The Old Blood.”
Which means, even the lowest Sarkic practitioner – no matter how pure – is descended metaphysically from Yaldabaoth. Just like the Archons. In the realm of Sarkite cosmology, mankind is the second cousin twice removed from the agents of the creator of the world, and they will be the death of everything.
“Who knows? But I can tell you one thing,” she said.
“What?”
“We won’t learn shit sitting around here and talking.”
Euboea laughed and stood up. “No, most likely not.”
“So, do you have a next move?”
“I have some favors we can call in. Come on.”
“Where the hell are we?”
“Look around, what does that tell you?”
Rebekah glanced around the room. They were standing in a large room, made of stones of various sizes. The outer wall rounded away from them, like the outer wall of a circular building. But as strange as that was, the interesting thing was the bookshelves that lined every section of the walls.
“A library.”
Euboea nodded. “A library, yes. Depository, actually.”
“Okay, so?”
“Well, less ‘a library’ as much as ‘the Library’.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing.
“Wait, I thought we couldn’t…”
Another voice called from behind her. “Foundation agents can’t enter the Library, that’s right.”
Rebekah turned towards the new voice and saw a very young woman in a black sport coat, black blouse, blue jeans and boots. She brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes and smiled. “So, how can you be here, I wonder?”
“Allison,” he said.
“Euboea. Lovely to see you again.”
“Great, you two know each other. Want to cue me in?” Rebekah asked.
“My name is Allison Chao; you might know me better as the Black Queen.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry. Wait, you call yourself a queen? What are you, 17?”
The Black Queen laughed and held open a door. Rebekah and Euboea followed her out of the room and into a conference style room, with more bookshelves.
“So, is this like the Library library? For real?”
“We are in the Library. Well… it’s a library in the Library, just to be confusing. This depository is a place I like to store my collection, and I keep this open for the other members of the Serpent’s Hand.”
“Oh great, so not only am I AWOL, but meeting with an agent of the enemy.”
“Not so much an agent but leader, in a way.”
“That makes it so much better.”
“If you two are done with the flirting, could we get to business?” Euboea said.
The Black Queen snorted. Rebekah grimaced and asked, “Why are we here?”
“And how did you get her here?”
“A Way in Munich. And she’s no longer with the Foundation,” he answered.
“I’m not?”
“If you aren’t a wanted fugitive by now, you’re at the very least unemployed.”
“There’s a Way directly to my depository?”
“Yes, as it happens, I would be glad to show it to you if you could help us.”
“Help with?”
The next hour involved Rebekah and Euboea explaining their complicated history and that of the Daevite return with the Matriarch. At that point, the Black Queen’s cynicism bled away into surprise. “A Daevite alive today? Not just some cultist with delusions of grandeur?”
“Well, she’s hardly alive, but she’s animated and causing all sorts of hell up and down the continent. I’m surprised you haven’t heard anything,” Rebekah said.
“I have heard of these events you’re mentioning, a few of them anyway. But I did not think the appearance of an abandoned temple in Greece or the Foundation quarantining part of Târgoviște for a few hours had to do with the return of mythical horror stories. Then again, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We’ve been finding things left over from them for years. And by we, I mean you.” The Black Queen stared at Rebekah.
“Look, I get our two organizations have a lot of bad blood, but I’m just someone stuck in a bad situation that could blow up and fuck with the whole world. Countless people have died already, even with the Foundation trying to limit her activities. Imagine if she’s successful. How long before a reborn Daevite empire comes knocking on the Hand’s door?”
The Black Queen sighed. “What do you want?”
“We need some way to find her, before she makes her next move,” Euboea said.
“If even half the things you’ve told me are true, haven’t you been around for millennia? Why do you need my help?”
“I have never spent my time studying the way I should have. Nuanced workings like finding someone are hard for me. We need to move fast before the Matriarch tries something else and this time succeeds.”
The Black Queen rose from her chair and started to walk out of the room. “Just stay here, I don’t need Foundation agents wandering around.”
She left, closing the door behind her.
“How did we get here?”
“Through a Way, like I said.”
“And Ways are hardcoded right? They connect specific places?”
“Usually, yes. But sometimes you can create one temporarily with enough power and something to anchor you at the exit. Why?”
“I’d like to talk to Iona.”
“That is a terrible idea. You’re almost certainly a fugitive, like I said. I left the camera you were wearing, I didn’t want them to track us.”
“So?”
“Director Varga has certainly seen the footage and will know that something is wrong. Something anomalous, as you people put it. That’s why I took you. After seeing how well you were able to counteract her spell, and how the knife hurt her, I couldn’t let them lock you up for study. And let’s face it, that is what would happen.”
“They don’t just lock up anyone with abilities. They hired me for my abilities.”
“This isn’t psychic phenomena, Rebekah. You’re possessed by an alien intelligence of astonishing strength. You have control, but they won’t care. Even if Varga is your friend as you think, she won’t have a choice. Especially after I reneged on our deal.”
“What’s it been, a day? We could rush in there, explain things, she would understand.”
“It’s been two weeks.”
Rebekah’s mouth opened to speak but nothing happened. She just stared at him.
“How could you not know that?” he asked. "You were recovering for more than ten days since Romania. But you were conscious sometimes, and we even spoke.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” she yelled.
“I don’t know what happened to you, but it’s interfering with your perceptions of reality. Which only means we have less time than I thought.”
She slammed her palms against the table.
“Two weeks…”
“Yes, and I’ve been hiding you all that time. A few days ago, there was a flurry of activity in England and since there’s been multiple teams flying out of Site-91. They’re looking for something.”
“How do you know that?”
“My people.”
Rebekah sighed. “I don’t think they’re looking for me. That sounds like mobilization. Something has them worried.”
ADDENDUM 7812.3: Discovery of Culebra-Simmons Syndrome
Recovered Footage from London Metropolitan Police
28 September, 1993
Foreword: The police department received numerous complaints about attacks against pedestrians at London Underground stations by what was described as homeless individuals. CC TV footage did not reveal any individuals matching the descriptions entering or exiting the Underground, thus it was theorized that the assailants represented a small group of homeless individuals living in the tunnels. Cataloguing the location of the alleged assaults, the department was able to triangulate the most likely underground spaces these individuals were residing in – an abandoned tunnel leading to a decommissioned station. It was decided to perform a raid at 01:00, launched from the St. Paul’s station, because the trains would not be running at this time.
Entrance to abandoned tunnel in London Underground.
01:05: Fifteen Metropolitan AFOs gather on the platform of St. Paul’s Underground station. The officers assist one another down from the platform and begin walking northeast along the tracks.
01:10: The officers arrive at the entrance to the abandoned tunnel thought to house the assailants.
01:11: Several officers report howling noises coming from within the tunnel, but the group proceeds apace.
01:13: Two individuals rush towards the officers screaming incoherently. Despite attempts to calm these individuals down, they proceed to physically assault several of the officers. One bites out the throat of an officer, tackling her to the ground. Another breaks the arm of an officer with little effort and throwing him against the wall. The other officers shoot and kill the two assailants. Both are disheveled and dirty, seemingly having been living in these tunnels for months. Asking for assistance from emergency medical services for the surviving victim officer, the police leave one of their number and move on.
01:15: The police officers arrive at the decommissioned Underground station, seeing numerous bed mats and pieces of cardboard laid on the floor. A shrill scream is raised in the station, followed by countless others.
01:16: Over three hundred disheveled individuals rush the police officers, who open fire.
01:17: Several dozen assailants fall to gun shots but many more quickly approach the officers. Three police officers are dragged to the ground with dozens of hands striking at their armor and digging fingers into exposed flesh. An officer’s eyes are pulled out by one of the assailants, who proceeds to eat the organs before being hit with several rounds from other officers.
01:19: The ten remaining officers begin pulling back to the tunnel, pursued by the assailants. Several officers reach the end of the tunnel and turn to cover their colleagues. At least a dozen assailants fall, but an additional officer is dragged down and torn apart by others.
01:20: The remaining officers retreat past the entrance of the abandoned tunnel and the assailants stop following them. The officers watch as five assailants proceed to tear and consume chunks of flesh from the officer who fell with their teeth and fingers.
01:24: Nine surviving officers retreat to St. Paul’s station and report to their superiors.
Afterword: Michael Howard reached out to Foundation representatives through backchannels and requested assistance. MTF Zeta-9 (“Mole Rats”) were mobilized to the scene by 05:00 and the Underground line was shut down under a cover story of gas leak. Zeta-9 personnel sealed the area populated with the individuals and flooded the tunnels with a light mixture of aerosolized valium before beginning the assault. The assailants who were still alive (roughly two hundred and sixty) were stunned into unconsciousness and contained.
In the following days, the medical center at Site-91 was utilized to examine and treat the individuals recovered from the operation. Subsequent to its discovery, connection was made to SCP-7812’s emergence in the noosphere through screening for cognitohazards and confirmed by use of Fehn cognitoscope scanning. Thus, amnesticization was utilized to return those individuals to their conscious state before infection by what was termed Culebra-Simmons Syndrome.
Continuing operations to identify and contain individuals affected by the syndrome are ongoing.
ADDENDUM 7812.4: Analysis
Summation of Threat Analysis Concerning SCP-7812
1 October, 1993
Drs. Iona Varga & Judith Low
Having analyzed those individuals recovered from the London Underground and offered them treatment here at Site-91’s medical center, we have come to two conclusions.
This is not an isolated event or viral infection. Numerous other reports have been found in medical and police records across Europe, the Middle East, and Asia – the earliest of which date to 1991. For this reason I have retasked Site-91 forces to find and contain any and all individuals currently infected with the condition.
The infection has not occurred in a vacuum and is quite clearly anomalous. Culebra-Simmons Syndrome is the side-effect of an ideatic invasion in the noösphere. Provisionally classified as SCP-7812, this infection has taken root in the famis occulta, and is slowly expanding in size. There is every possibility that this alien concept, whether or not it is a sapient force, will subsume the human conceptual understanding of hunger and consumption, both abstract and practical.
SCP-7812’s primary mode of expansion appears to correlate with the number of individuals currently affected by Culebra-Simmons, as minute reductions have been observed with successful treatment of those contained. But we have reason to believe this infection has been in place for decades, far longer than cases of Culebra-Simmons have been observed. Even if we are successful in containing each affected case of the Syndrome, there is no obvious likelihood of neutralization. At best, projections show a reduction of conceptual size of the infection to approximately 10% of its current ideatic volume. Containment must therefore be focused on containment of affected individuals, while alternative plans are made for the direct containment of the infection point.
Given the research of the Department of History, SCP-7812 has been known to anomalous communities for millennia, with very different accounts from the Daevite and Sarkic traditions. Given the mythological importance of this anomaly, we are unsure how to even begin a direct containment effort.
Additionally, at this time we do not have a working theoretical framework for the surgical excision of SCP-7812 from the noösphere. Therefore, our new normal will have to factor in this alien presence in our conceptual ecosystem.
The pattern of infection seems random unless an outside factor is considered. A carrier. Someone or something moving around the world spreading the Syndrome. All attempts must be made to identify and contain this vector, whatever it may be.
“Alright, how long is this going to take?”
“As long as it takes, Agent,” the Black Queen said without taking her eyes off the dish.
The three of them were seated around table with a shallow silver dish with flanged rim, filled with water. When the water was poured, it was crystal clear, but as Chao whispered over it, the water had started to glow and clouded over.
That was over an hour before. They had been staring at the swirling waters all that time. Chao had assured them both that the enchantment on the mirror hated the Daeva, so it would find the one active member of that long dead dynasty if asked. But as they rounded out to the ninety-minute mark, Rebekah just couldn’t anymore.
“Isn’t there something else we can do here?”
Euboea glanced sideways at her with a sigh. “Rebekah…”
“Look, we’re on a tight schedule here. We need to see what she’s doing and get to her before another ritual is performed. Or before Site-91 finds her first.”
“Just be patient.”
Another few minutes passed, and Rebekah found herself pacing the room, glancing over the titles of esoteric books on shelves not recognizing anything. She was about to turn back towards the table when a book’s title caught her eye: Blood and the Thaumaturgic Ritual.
“What if we used a little blood?” she asked.
The Black Queen looked at her sharply. “I don’t like using that sort of ritual.”
“But this is looking for a Daeva, and they were obsessed with it.”
“She’s got a point, Allison,” Euboea said. “Also, she recently underwent the Matriarch’s touch, there might be a sympathetic conduit there.”
The young woman sighed, slipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out a small folding knife. “Give me your hand, Agent.”
Rebekah hesitated but with both of them looking at her, she didn’t feel much choice. Afterall, she had been the one to suggest it. She placed her hand in the Black Queen’s, palm up. The woman pressed the blade into her forefinger lightly, and held it so a drop or two fell into the water, speaking in what Rebekah believed was Aramaic. Rebekah withdrew her hand quickly, applying pressure, but was distracted by the water in the dish. The glowing cloudy water had shifted in tone to blood red, much more than would be expected from a few drops of her blood.
The swirling waters parted and there in the dish, she saw the Matriarch surrounded by her constructs in a very green but overcast scene.
“That’s outside Site-91!”
Sure enough, the Matriarch was leading her constructs towards the walled property containing the Foundation Research Site. Even as she opened her mouth to ask another question, the Daevite’s tree golems opened fire on the walls surrounding the 18th century manor. No sound transmitted through the image but she could imagine the roaring explosions as the front gate to the manor was ripped from its hinges.
“We need to get there. Now.”
The Black Queen shook her head. “I could get you to York, but you’d still be kilometers away.”
Euboea stared at the images of Foundation forces attacking the Matriarch’s puppet army, hundreds of the constructs armed to the teeth and rushing through the ruined gates. He saw Cynthia, one of his adepts working with Varga, throwing thaumaturgy at the wave of enemy forces before a stray round caught her in the throat and she spun backwards fountaining crimson.
“I might be able to get us to the Site directly.”
“I thought the whole place was warded,” the Black Queen said.
“It is, which would usually be a problem. But if I know our enemy, she’s heading right for the one thing that I could use to get us there quickly.”
“What?” Rebekah asked.
“My father’s body.”
INCIDENT 7812.1: Discovery of SCP-7812
Infiltration of Site-91 by Hostile Forces
5 October, 1993
MTF-Beta-777 (“Hecate’s Spear”) Personnel Present:
Captain Rashid al Hasin
Lieutenant Maria Waltham
Sergeant Mark Kenoshi
Sergeant Gabriel Merced
Foreword: On 5 October, 1993, at 0400 local time, a significant strength military assault was launched directly against Site-91. Although this assault was made of anomalous individuals and entities, the assault itself took conventional form, making the thaumaturgical wards placed along the property’s borders ineffectual in combating the effects.
View of Site-91 research and containment facility from the south.
[Captain al Hasin and Sergeant Kenoshi gather security personnel within Site-91’s armory.]
Captain al Hasin: We have an evolving situation here, people. Ten minutes ago, security systems picked up a large group of individuals approaching from the South, directly towards the main gate. At this time, we do not have a good count of the assaulting force, nor do we have details concerning their makeup.
[An explosion rocks the room and sends several security personnel sprawling.]
Captain al Hasin: Alright people, get geared up as fast as you can, you’ll be mobilized with myself and Sergeant Kenoshi. Let’s move.
[Captain al Hasin’s group spends the next few moments mobilizing to the barriers directly in the path of the assaulting force.]
[At the same time, Sergeant Merced and Lieutenant Waltham secure the Director’s Office and activate security measures throughout the site.]
Director Varga: What are you doing here? Get out there!
Lieutenant Waltham: Procedures are clear, ma’am. We secure your office and your person in the moment of external breach.
Director Varga: What the hell is happening?
Sergeant Merced: The Site is under attack from a sizable force. Given the limited individuals on Site at the moment, because of containment efforts already underway, I don’t like our chances.
Director Varga: Lieutenant Waltham, leave the Sergeant here with me and find out what is happening exactly. You’ve secured me, we’re good. I need information.
[Waltham tosses her a walkie talkie.]
Waltham: Keep that on.
[Waltham leaves the room checking her carbine and body armor. She moves rapidly through the administrative offices on the third floor of the manor, then approaches the stairs leading to the secure lobby on the first floor. She is met by Captain William Granger and his security forces having barricaded the main entrance.]
Granger: Lieutenant Waltham, I sent you to secure the Director. What the fuck are you doing down here?
Waltham: Director’s orders, she wants an update on the situation.
Granger: Tell her highness we’re under attack.
Waltham: I think she’s aware of–
Granger: What I need is for you to go back upstairs.
Waltham: Frankly, sir, you don’t command me. Captain al Hasin does. And he answers to Varga, so just answer the goddamn question.
Granger: al Hasin and his team are dug in halfway down the property, in direct line of fire. I don’t have an update from them yet.
[The radio shrieks, followed by Sergeant Kenoshi’s voice.]
Kenoshi: Site Actual, this is Forward Team. You hearing me?
Waltham: Mark, we’re here. What’s your status?
[Granger frowns but doesn’t say anything.]
Kenoshi: We’re being overrun here, there’s so many of the bastards.
Waltham: Who is it?
Kenoshi: Those grass golem things we’ve seen associated with Daevite forces. Plus, some of the living trees with those cannons.
Waltham: Where’s Rashid?
Kenoshi: The Captain’s has been hit, we need to get him to the med center but these things are everywhere.
Waltham: Okay, I’m coming out to you.
Kenoshi: Negative, they’ve looped around our positions and are moving on the manor.
Granger: Where?
Kenoshi: There’s a few dozen holed up at the foot of the stairs just staring at the shutters over the entrance.
Waltham: What are they doing?
Kenoshi: Nothing. Just staring and pointing their weapons at the shutters. The fuckers surrounding us aren’t really trying to kill either, they seem sorta listless. I think we can hold most of them back.
Granger: Are they approaching the manor at any other point? Have you seen a leader?
Kenoshi: Yes, I clock a couple of the little golems and a tree sentinel in front of the door to the crypt.
Waltham: Shit.
[She races up the stairs and away from Granger, back towards Director Varga’s office. When she arrives, she opens the door roughly and is met with Merced’s rifle barrel.]
Waltham: Jesus Christ, Gabe.
Merced: Sorry.
Varga: What happened?
[Waltham fills Varga in on the situation.]
Varga: Dammit.
[Varga stands and folds away a false front to one of her bookcases revealing a small elevator.]
Varga: Let’s go!
[Waltham, Varga and Merced squeeze into the elevator. Varga punches in a code and the elevator car rushes down four floors. When the doors open again, they are in a small area fronted with a facsimile of stone wall. In the wall is a one-way mirror and mechanism to open the wall like a door. Through the observation mirror, a desiccated female figure dressed in red and gold robes with an iron crown stands before the cadaver of SCP-4612-A. Waltham takes a step forward but Varga holds up a hand. Varga switches a speaker on at the base of the window, allowing sound to travel from the crypt.]
[The desiccated woman mutters to herself, holding her palm flat next to the incision along the cadaver’s ten meter long form. Blue ichor continues to pool beneath the incision on the stone table.]
-Matriarch: After all the effort my people made to combat you, it was a pampered group of humans who managed to slit your throat. That must sting.
Waltham: Is she talking to the body?
Matriarch: Yes, I am, you idiot.
[Waltham raises her carbine but is frozen in place. The rest of the incident is filmed through Waltham’s body camera, but she does not move or speak again. The same is true of Merced and Varga.]
Matriarch: I’m talking to “the body” because it is still alive. I’m sure it appeared dead to your soulless scientists, but this is stasis. Anything that bleeds for more than two hundred years is obviously not dead.
[The Matriarch bends down to pick up a knife from the stone table, still coated in uncoagulated blue ichor.]
Matriarch: With this knife which struck my enemy still stained with its blood, I call upon thee, O servant of my god, the source of all things, the Font.
Matriarch: Oh, Luminous Agents of Life, hear my call. The last of the divine lineage calls upon you, in this moment of despair. If the bloodline is to be preserved, the world set to right along the ideals of our Master, the creator of all things, then I beseech you. Answer my plea.
[The Matriarch slips the knife into the incision and widens the wound, causing more ichor to flow out. She lets the liquid pool in her palm then holds the cupped palm to her lips, drinking of the substance, letting it pour out down her mouth staining her skin and robes.]
Unknown voice: STOP.
[The Matriarch turns towards this new voice and sees a tear in reality along the opposite wall, through which comes a humanoid entity with glowing blue eyes and accompanied by ███████ ███████.]
Euboea: Take your hands off my Father’s body.
[Euboea raises a hand and fire illuminates the area pooling around his hand.]
Matriarch: It isn’t dead you buffoon! Are you all idiots? Amazing that you’ve been so successful against me.
[Euboea lowers his hand and the fire fades.]
Euboea: What do you mean?
Matriarch: I’ll not explain the workings of gods to fools, even those gods which want me dead.
[Euboea’s hands flare again but the Matriarch holds up her palm and he too freezes in place. ███████ ███████ does not move either. The Matriarch smiles and holds up the stained knife.]
Matriarch: I’ll flay your god for me to eat, little slugson. And you can watch.
[The Matriarch repeats her previous action, allowing more ichor to pool in her hand and painting her skin in its sheen while continuing to chant in Daevic.]
[The lights in the crypt dim, and a voice is heard.]
Daughter of the Blood.
Matriarch: My lord.
[The Matriarch prostrates herself on the stone floor, holding her knife and ichor stained hand out before her.]
You called. We came. What is it the Daughter of the Pure needs?
Matriarch: This force has tried to end the lineage, along with their allies. I beseech thee, eradicate the Foundation and the one they call Euboea and his changed folk.
[Booming laughter is heard.]
THIS IS ALL YOU ASK OF US? KILL SOME MORTALS? WASTE NOT THE ETERNAL’S ATTENTION, SLAVE.
Matriarch: I beg of thee, it is not the killing that is important, it is the weaving of reality. These creatures thwart the Font’s entire purpose. Wipe this Foundation from the Earth, and we might rebuild the Lineage’s rule in this world. And then, serve the Font directly, through your direction.
All life serves the Primordial Creator, Slave. But we were called, so let us see what we can do.
[The Matriarch continues to kneel silently for a moment during which the voice does not respond.]
Ah, interesting, I would not have expected such capacity or power. Having contained the upstart’s fleshy children, and many other phenomena.
Matriarch: Do you mean you cannot do th–
OF COURSE WE CAN. WE ARE THE CREATORS OF EVERYTHING, FOR SHE WHO SLEEPS ETERNAL. WE CAN DO ANYTHING.
Matriarch: Please forgive me, my Lord. What shall I do to aid you?
Welcome us into your world, we need to touch the fabric of the universe for ourselves if we are to–
[The Matriarch screams, interrupting the disembodied voice. There is a stone knife, an athame, sticking out of the back of her neck at a 45-degree angle. ███████ ███████ is holding the handle. The Matriarch whimpers as she falls to the floor.]
███████ ███████: I think that is enough.
Brother/Sister? Is that you?
███████ ███████: Yes. And I have already made a foothold into this real’s mental sphere. It is only a matter of time before we feed, Sister/Brother.
That changes everything. I shall leave it to you. May our domination of this world be swift!
[The lights resume their brightness in the crypt. ███████ ███████ crouches down in front of the Matriarch, gripping the hilt of the knife.]
Matriarch: What are you?
███████ ███████: I’m the same woman you’ve tried to kill several times, your highness. And more.
Matriarch: Why did it listen to you?
███████ ███████: It listened to us.
[The Matriarch raises her good arm to shield her face.]
███████ ███████: What you wanted to bring into this world didn’t care a damn for you. All it wants is to feed.
Matriarch: No…
███████ ███████: Your people worship life, but you’re a withered corpse straining against inevitability. A fossil.
[Waltham, freed from the Matriarch’s control, opens the door before Varga can stop her.]
Waltham: ███████ just stop, you’ve got her. Let us help you through whatever is happening.
[███████ ███████ does not look up from the Daevite’s face.]
███████ ███████: You can’t help me.
[███████ ███████ twists the knife in the Matriarch’s neck and wrenches it free, sending black oily liquid splashing onto the stone floor of the crypt. The Matriarch wails.]
███████ ███████: But I can help everyone else.
[███████ ███████ slashes the knife several times across the Matriarch’s throat, nearly severing her head. The body falls to the floor.]
███████ ███████: Finish it.
[SCP-4612-B ignites the body of the Matriarch with thaumaturgy.]
Waltham: You can’t leave.
[Waltham has drawn her side arm and is aiming at the other woman.]
[███████ ███████ turns to look at Euboea who then opens a Way behind them.]
Waltham: ███████, stop!
[Director Varga pushes down the gun, shaking her head. The two individuals leave through the Way, which closes behind them.]
Varga: We’ve got a fire in the crypt, please send the fire suppression team down here.
Granger: [Transmitting through the radio] Yes, Director.
[Waltham stares at the burning body as Varga turns back towards the elevator.]
END LOG
Afterword: Despite significant damage to the body of the Daevite, Director Varga ordered it be bound and secured within cold storage containment.
███████ ███████ and SCP-4612-B have not been seen since the event. A priority alpha alert has been sent out to all Foundation Sites for any information concerning both individuals.
After the events of the log transcribed above, ███████ ███████ was designated as SCP-7812-A. Connection was made when all present personnel developed early signs of Culebra-Simmons Syndrome and required light amnestic treatment. Additionally, despite the usual ambient Akiva radiation present underneath Site-91 due to SCP-4612-A’s presence, sensors observed almost no radiation during ███████ ███████’s appearance. Director Varga theorizes that ███████ ███████ was consuming the ambient radiation normally present in the crypt.
Director Varga closed the file on SCP-7812 and pushed it away from her. She leaned back behind her desk and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Dammit, Rebekah.”
Her desktop computer pinged, having received a secure message through SCiPNet. She turned the monitor on and keyed in her passcode. Opening the message, she frowned.
“How in the hell?”
To: Iona Varga, PhD/MD – Director of Site-91
From: Rebekah Douglas
Subject: Thank you
Hey Iona,
I know you’re probably wondering how I managed to get a message to you. Don’t worry about that, I called in some favors. What is important is that I’m not coming back.
I’m sure you have everyone out looking for me, but I had to reach out. I’m sorry things played out this way. I’m sorry you put yourself out on a limb and I let you down. Hopefully, you’ll see that I did what I had to. She needed to die. Time and again she showed us how dangerous she was, it was only her arrogance that left her vulnerable. We showed up the way we did because that was the only option left.
But this was to thank you. You looked out for me and gave me a chance. Even if I blew it, that still meant the world to me. And now, I’ve got something inside my head, and it won’t let go. I know it’s something terrible and even if I had played by the rules, you’d still have to contain me. And even though I’d love to give you the benefit of the doubt, I can’t. You won’t hear from me again; I’m going underground for a while to figure it out.
Anyway… thanks. I hope someday we can laugh about all this. But I won’t be holding my breath.
Love,
Rebekah
Varga sighed and depressed the buzzer that connected to her assistant. “Julie, will you come in here?”
Julie came in carrying another stack of documents, which she placed at the front of the Director’s desk. “After action reports on the incident.”
“Great,” Varga said as she slid the documents closer. “When you go back out, call down to the lab and have them prep the surgery.”
“What’s up?”
“I want to examine the Daevite myself.”
Julie turned to go out and Varga called to her as she was about to close the door.
“Any word from Captain al Hasin?”
“Nothing positive. They’re fairly sure she went into the Library but from there they don’t know where to start looking.”
Varga nodded as Julie shut the door to her office. She looked up at the screen and held the cursor over the forward button, intending to send the email to the Captain. She stared for a moment and smiled, deleting the message instead.
“Stupid girl.”
THE END
Hecatoncheires Cycle
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