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Threat Level: Orange
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is contained within a standard humanoid containment cell in the Auxiliary Containment Facility of Site-56. SCP-XXXX is permitted to roam nonessential areas of the site between the hours of 18:00 and 6:00 while under direct supervision. Additionally, SCP-XXXX has been implanted with a subdermal tracker as an auxiliary measure.
SCP-XXXX has been employed as a maintenance technician with a clearance of 0/XXXX. As per the Kutta-Fehlberg labor directive, SCP-XXXX is paid in Foundation scrip, which it may exchange for amenities and entertainment material approved by its Project Director. SCP-XXXX is to undergo physical therapy twice a week.
SCP-XXXX-1 through -7 are contained within a series of individual electric coolers in Facility A of Site-56. Once per day, 330 ml of 12-proof beer is to be distributed among each cooler; distribution is dependent on the activity levels of each instance.
SCP-XXXX-7's cooler is to be soundproofed.
Description: SCP-XXXX is Cory Chambers, a 20-year-old European-American male approximately 160 cm tall and 54 kg in weight. Following a series of traumatic injuries, SCP-XXXX suffers from frequent migraines and coordination issues. SCP-XXXX itself is nonanomalous.
SCP-XXXX-1 through -7 is the collective designation for entities created from the corpse of Manuel Chambers, a youth pastor formerly employed by the Seven Seas and Soil Church. Instances are animate and hostile.
Instances are as follows:
- SCP-XXXX-1 consists of the torso and waist. Prior to recovery, SCP-XXXX-1 bore three gunshot wounds to its ventral torso (consistent with an .22 LR handgun). It moves via rapid expansion and contraction of its ribcage, although its esophagus may be used as a flagellum.
- SCP-XXXX-2 consists entirely of Mr. Chambers's reproductive system. The shaft of SCP-XXXX-2 is grossly engorged, and lined with hooks and suckers anatomically identical to those of Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni.
- SCP-XXXX-3 consists of Mr. Chambers's legs. SCP-XXXX-3 moves through peristalsis.
- SCP-XXXX-4 is a partially-transparent mass of congealed blood and an unidentified corrosive substance. Mr. Chamber's heart and lungs are suspended within SCP-XXXX-4.
- SCP-XXXX-5 is comprised of Mr. Chamber's intestines, along with various soft organs, bones, and muscles. No baseline morphology has been established.
- SCP-XXXX-6 consists of Mr. Chamber's arms, spine, brain, eyes, and teeth. Neuroimaging has returned largely inconclusive results.
- SCP-XXXX-7 is the head of Mr. Chambers. It is supported by seven limbs resembling those of Macrocheira kaempferi. Despite lacking teeth, lungs, or a tongue, SCP-XXXX-7 is capable of vocalizations.
These instances are resistant to physical trauma, and capable of reconstructing themselves if sufficiently damaged. Although they have been observed eating, they do not require sustenance. Exposure to freezing temperatures induces torpor in all seven instances (as does the consumption of alcohol).
In absence of external stimuli, all instances will travel toward SCP-XXXX. It has not been determined what would happen if they reach him.
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
The Beta-Unseelie project has been discontinued. Personnel assigned to SCP-3472's development have been reassigned to the Gamma-Unseelie project. Containment specialists have been briefed on SCP-3472's updated containment procedures.
All modifications to existing documentation following Incident ████-B have been marked in blue.
— Claudia Southey, Director, RAISA
| Item #: SCP-3472 |
βU-4/3472 |
| Object Class: Keter (Formerly Thaumiel) |
Classified |
MEMORANDUM ON COMPROMISED PERSONNEL
SCP-3472's former focal point.
Special Containment Procedures: As of 16/05/1964, βU-2677's role in the containment of SCP-3472 is poorly understood. However, due to the haphazard construction of βU-2677's auxiliary fail-safes, all personnel attempting to examine βU-2677 without permission from the Project Director are to be terminated.
SCP-3472 is partially contained by βU-2677, both of which are contained at Area 3472. To this end, Area 3472 has been fitted with an earthquake-resistant framing. No physics-altering or non-Safe objects are to be stored at Area 3472.
Research Task Force Azu ("Eyes to the Skies") has been tasked with researching methods with which to neutralize SCP-3472.
Description: SCP-3472 is the Kejel-Osbourne field surrounding βU-2677, an experimental containment unit formerly intended to house SCP-████. SCP-3472 maintains an average Hume level of 1630, leaving environmental change impossible within SCP-3472.
All objects within SCP-3472 are subject to a variety of ontological modifications originating from the field itself; despite this, SCP-3472's Hume levels remain stable, contradicting Lawrence's Conjecture. In most cases, foreign objects inside SCP-3472 will disintegrate entirely within two hours of entry.
SCP-3472 is either maintained, stabilized, or deterred by βU-2677. βU-2677
Addendum [3472-001]: βU-2677
| Item #: SCP-XXXX |
Level 2/XXXX |
| Object Class: Safe (Formerly Euclid) |
Classified |
Partial capture of SCP-XXXX-1 on [DATE LOST].
Special Containment Procedures: As per the Homme-Dark Agreement, SCP-XXXX-1 is to stay up indefinitely. Containment is focused on preventing edits that may compromise SCP-XXXX's current immobility.
SCP-XXXX is to be monitored at all times. In the event that SCP-XXXX manages to escape its restraints, On-site Task Force Alef-9 ("Just Fuck My Shit Up") is to immediately move in to recontain it.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a modified instance of DV-BIO Type Ɵ, formerly the corpse of Charles II of Spain. SCP-XXXX is located in a subbasement of the Real Sitio de San Lorenzo El Escorial in Madrid, Spain, restrained by several seals of thaumaturgical significance. As such, SCP-XXXX is incapable of doing anything beyond vocalizing displeasure at its situation.
SCP-XXXX-1 is a website hosted at mcdtps://████████.███, consisting entirely of a welcome page and a portrait of Charles II. Visitors to SCP-XXXX-1 are able to modify the portrait through a series of editing tools, most of which are meant to be humorous in nature.
A transcript of the welcome message has been recreated below.
Welcome to my little slice of the internet!
Anyways yeah if the janitors are reading I basically just did this because I thought it'd be funny. Hopefully that saves you an expository interview or something. Sic Semper Cannabis, Viva Catalonia, No Kings No Masters, the usual.
Have fun fucking Charles II's shit up!
~burningwoman1988, with a little help from Madam Brinegash
Modifications to SCP-XXXX-1 result in changes to SCP-XXXX's physiology. While portions of SCP-XXXX-1's portrait appear to correspond with portions of SCP-XXXX's body, the radical physiological difference between DV-BIO Type Ɵ and Homo sapiens sapiens make the results of such changes unpredictable.
The initial examination of the room in which SCP-XXXX is contained revealed several inscriptions, tools, and occult paraphernalia associated with the Children of the Scarlet King. Analysis suggests that SCP-XXXX had been dormant prior to 26/09/2026 and had been intended to awaken on 07/07/2027. SCP-XXXX's sealants appear to have been added shortly before SCP-XXXX-1's launch.
INTERVIEW [XXXX-1]
Interviewed: SCP-XXXX
Interviewer: Dr. Safiyya Mallouk
Foreward: Interview translated from Castilian Spanish.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Mallouk: Good morning, SCP-XXXX.
SCP-XXXX: A rather impudent moniker for a king, is it not? I expect better from an inferior such as yourself.
Dr. Mallouk: Alright, then. Good morning, Charles II.
SCP-XXXX:
Dr. Mallouk: Work with me here.
[Repeat as necessary]
<End Log>
Closing Statement: [Small summary and passage on what transpired afterward]
Part 1: Internal dialogue
Director Anderson Harper, filed in between a gigantic rebar hummingbird and some half-formed radio tower, was fine, really. Sure, he'd rather have been out doing, you know, something, but he supposed that was the price he payed for being a fictional construct.
But no, he was fine, really. From his tapping feet to his weary eyes, fit as a fiddle, and ready to listen to yet another of 
UraniumEmpire's lectures on how to write.
Oh, like he needs to know. Doctorate in computer science, twenty-something years of experience, father of the Theta-Unseelie project. Yes, Harper definitely needed workshopping from a 'Pataphysics liaison.
Harper's gaze wandered through the rest of the auditorium, and recognized few. A lot of faceless agents and blackboxed anomalies, background characters to the life of everyone else. The occasional familiar face like the Yarkonis and their daughters, mixed in with the familiar facelessness of 56's usual suspects. Hell, even a few out-of-departments like Fernand and some... man wrapped in bandages. Colorful crowd. Harper hoped they'd mesh well, in spite of everything he knew about the universe.
Waiting for UE to take the stage, Harper's thoughts turned inward.
Internal dialogue. That was easy enough, right? More often than not, it was an important part of the narrative process in first and third-person limited. In the medium of stories, such points of view double as the character in questions' observations-at least, that's how Harper saw it. Was there more to it? Probably, but how that affected
Snacks? Sara packed 'em. Folding chairs? Oh, definitely, no parade without them. Blankets she didn't care about? Ready for Plan B seating (or lying) arrangements. Chocolate liqueur? Oh, hell yes, flask full of that. Locks for the door they almost certainly shouldn't have gone through? Eh, maybe it was a fire hazard, but if it came to that Sara could just jump off the building to her death. Companionship?
Veronica sat backwards in her chair, listlessly staring at the lack of procession below. Or maybe she wasn't staring. Sara didn't know Veronica much more than her drumming, her mercuriality, and where she liked what, but Sara liked to think she was getting a hang of that study, or something.
Sara plopped right down on the chair next to her, feet already resting on the concrete fence that separated building from 50 feet of drop (and didn't do a very good job at it). "Are you tired, V? The parade's not even started."
If Veronica had something to say in response, it was buried by a halfhearted grumble. So yes, probably tired.
"Figures. SoHo's a ton of walking. Or maybe we're good at getting lost." Sara took a swig of g-d this is good liquor. They just sold this? "Dunno, I need the miles. Wait, you don't mind if I keep talking, right? You seem like you need the quiet. Do you need the quiet?"
"I'm fine, Sara." Well, Veronica was fishing into her bag for either some gum or a joint, so that was a lie.
Sara had to remember not to rock in her chair, or at least rock side to side, but that was hard and waiting was boring. "Really? We can go back if you want. Olney cabs run in SoHo, right? I mean, I dunno if we can run food down, but…" She should shut up. She should really, really shut up, huh? Well, if it was a joint, that'd solve itself, maybe.
It was a joint, what she was pulling out.
The first puff went to Veronica, being the one who, you know, supplied. It looked halfhearted. "… sorry. Sorry."
Sara said nothing.
"… parade's usually late." Another puff, more of a drag. "There's no commission here, don't think. I know Brad tried running one, back when he was into politics, but SoHo's pretty damn Orthodox." Veronica absentmindedly passed the joint over, blowing a ring of iridescent smoke into the twilight sky.
The blunt was firm, pre-packed. Veronica must've known she'd need it.
Sara took her own drag, and nearly coughed up whatever bitter fae shit Nicky had packed. "Fuuuuck. That's like, half of New York, V. Cut the BackDoor slack." Would anyone notice? Fuck, first trip to SoHo and she'd be busted by a pig. Just her luck. "'sides, commission's ain't done much for NYC proper. "
"… not really."
Sara took another drag.
The procession was fifteen minutes late, plus or minus five, but Sara hadn't been keeping track by the time the march finally started, and when it did…
It started with lights. Great, pulsing beasts of distilled rainbow, dancing down the avenue at the direction of thaumaturges just behind, followed by actual beasts, creatures out of fantasy and Romance and… mostly just those two, but living beasts of legend nonetheless, marching down the street like they didn't shatter the old Sara's world through their mere existence.
Following them was the brass; literal brass, automatons of all shapes and sizes (that fit into SoHo's streets), clicking and whirring in procession
