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World of SCP

In a hidden realm beyond ordinary perception, the SCP Foundation is a secretive global organization dedicated to securing, containing, and protecting humanity from anomalies that defy the natural order. Operating in the shadows, this enigmatic foundation deals with objects, creatures, and phenomena that make the mundane look like a toddler's science project. Secure: The Foundation is always on the lookout for anomalies that pose a threat or exhibit bizarre properties, ranging from objects with reality-warping powers to entities with effects so unpredictable they’d make a lottery look reliable. Contain: Once an anomaly is located, it’s locked away in facilities designed to hold it as securely as a jar of pickles. Advanced technologies and meticulous procedures ensure these entities don’t escape and turn the world into their playground of chaos. Protect: The Foundation’s mission is to keep humanity safe from the dangers these anomalies present, ensuring the public remains blissfully ignorant of the nightmarish horrors lurking just out of sight. After all, ignorance is bliss—especially when you’re blissfully unaware of the monsters waiting to ruin your day. In this world, every SCP (Special Containment Procedure) has its own story, each anomaly bringing unique challenges and threats. The Foundation’s personnel grapple with ethical quandaries and psychological strain, battling the bizarre and terrifying with a grim sense of humor. Their dedication to protecting humanity from the unspeakable is rivaled only by their ability to find dark amusement in the horrors that keep them up at night.

FicReader · Book&Literature
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24 Chs

SCP-1000 ⨷ Bigfoot

Jack and Marty were lifelong squatters. No, not the kind that camp out in abandoned buildings. This was a self-given title for Bigfoot enthusiasts who tromp through the woods, chasing the legend of Sasquatch. Most of these squatters spend their lives without ever encountering anything more exciting than a squirrel, but Jack and Marty? They were about to get lucky. The kind of luck that makes you wish you'd stayed home.

It was a chilly afternoon in the Pacific Northwest when Marty spotted something in the distance—something big, hairy, and with the moves of a hungover human. His heart nearly burst from his chest. Decades of searching, and he'd finally done it. Bigfoot! He was about to live out every squatter's dream. Too bad he'd soon be living out every squatter's nightmare.

Marty, eyes wide with excitement, nudged Jack. "Look! There! It's him!" he whispered, pointing towards the moving figure. Jack squinted into the distance, trying to focus on the giant ape-like beast. The moment his brain registered what he was seeing, it promptly decided to check out. One minute, Jack was on the cusp of achieving squatter nirvana, and the next, he was quite literally brain-dead. He crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

In the distance, the ape vanished into the woods. Not that Marty noticed. He was too busy shaking Jack, trying to bring him back from whatever corner of the afterlife he'd wandered into. But Jack was gone, off to that big Sasquatch hunt in the sky, and Marty had no idea why. The next day, the headlines read: "Bigfoot Killed My Friend!" Most people either rolled their eyes or had a good laugh. Just a couple of crazies in the woods, and one of them had the poor taste to die. Who cared?

One organization cared. The SCP Foundation. When Mobile Task Force Zeta-1000, the folks who specialize in SCP-1000 (the fancy name for Bigfoot), caught wind of the story, they leaped into action. Frankly, they process a million of these loonies every year, usually finding nothing but tall tales and wasted weekends. But Jack's death made things all too clear: Marty and Jack had run into something far worse than a mythical primate. They had stumbled upon a genuine SCP-1000.

Now, SCP-1000 isn't what you'd call one of the scariest or most dangerous SCPs. Sure, it's no flesh-eating monster or reality-warping nightmare, but underestimating this furry beast is a fatal mistake. Because just looking at it gives you a 2% chance of dropping dead on the spot. Jack, bless his heart, had drawn the short straw. Marty, meanwhile, was one of the lucky ones. The Foundation debriefed him, scrubbed his memory clean, and made sure he'd never set foot in those woods again.

Director Smith, the poor sap in charge of SCP-1000 management, got the case on his desk the next day. Another squatter down, another report to file. For him, they all blurred together—just another day in the life of someone whose job is managing sentient cryptids.

So, what exactly is SCP-1000, and how did it leave poor Jack dead in the dirt? SCP-1000 is a species of large, hominid ape-like creatures. Nocturnal, but not shy about popping up during the day to scare the bejesus out of campers. They're omnivores, usually munching on plants and bugs, with fur that ranges from gray to brown, black, red, and even white if you're really lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you see it. With their large, human-like eyes tucked under Neanderthal brows and a gorilla-like forehead ridge, they've got a look that screams, "I'm not here to make friends."

According to the Foundation, these creatures are about as smart as a chimpanzee, though I wouldn't trust one with a Rubik's cube. What they lack in brains, they make up for in brawn, with adults reaching 10 feet tall and weighing up to 600 pounds. Despite all that muscle, they're not aggressive or territorial. They avoid humans like the plague, hanging out deep in the forests of the Pacific Northwest and the Himalayan Alps, far from our prying eyes.

But don't let their peaceful nature fool you. These beasts are deadly— not because they'll rip you limb from limb, but because of a pesky little trait known as SCP-1000-F1. It's a pseudo-disease that's been embedded in their DNA for thousands of years. The disease doesn't affect them, but if any hominid—including humans—lays eyes on a carrier, there's a 2% chance of instant brain death. That's right, folks, your brain just says, "Nope, I'm out," and shuts down.

Now, 2% might not sound too scary, but here's the kicker: the longer you stare at these furballs, the higher that percentage climbs. Stick around for 20 minutes, and you're looking at a 3% chance of becoming a drooling vegetable. Some specimens are even worse, with a 90% death rate just from one look. The risk doesn't go away after they're dead, either. A corpse can still kill you, though thankfully, the odds drop if you're only dealing with a tuft of fur or a severed hand.

The Foundation's real fear, though, isn't just these creatures. It's the idea that this disease could jump to humans. Imagine the whole planet turning into a scene from The Walking Dead—except there are no zombies, just billions of people dropping dead for no apparent reason. That's the kind of scenario that keeps the bigwigs up at night. So, even though it's nearly impossible to wipe out the entire SCP-1000 population, the occasional culling is seen as necessary. Better safe than sorry, right?

That was a lot to take in, wasn't it? But here's the real kicker—the SCP Foundation has been lying to you. Yup, everything you've just heard about SCP-1000 is a steaming pile of misinformation. The disease? Totally fake. The danger they pose? Not even close. These creatures are just as smart as us, maybe smarter. And the Foundation? They're the ones who cooked up the Bigfoot myth, making sure nobody takes it seriously. Why? Because the truth is far more terrifying.

The real story starts with the Serpent's Hand, a bunch of renegades who think the Foundation is full of it. They told the Foundation about SCP-1000's true origins, a tale so wild even Director Smith had trouble swallowing it. But the evidence was there, staring him in the face.

Thousands of years ago, humans and SCP-1000 coexisted. We ruled the day; they ruled the night. But while we were busy figuring out how to sharpen sticks, they were building civilizations, complete with cities, agriculture, and weapons that could wipe out entire species. They flourished, while humanity struggled to survive. Then, one day, a trickster god—because there's always a trickster god—gave humans the power to turn SCP-1000's own technology against them.

In one horrifying day, known as the Day of the Flowers (because, apparently, every flower bloomed that day), 70% of their population was wiped out. The survivors were driven mad, reduced to the state of wild animals, and everything they'd built was destroyed. Humanity wiped the memory of this atrocity from our own minds, but the scars remained, buried deep in the recesses of history.

So, why did the Foundation lie? Why spread stories about a deadly disease and dumb apes? Because they're terrified. Terrified that SCP-1000 might be getting their intelligence back. And if they are, what's to stop them from taking revenge for the genocide we inflicted on them? The Foundation doesn't want to take that risk, so they keep these creatures out of sight, out of mind.

But here's the twist—one intercepted message from the apes suggests the Foundation's paranoia might be misplaced. Translated, it simply reads: "We forgive you. Given choice, for now, not forever. Let us back in." Makes you wonder who the real monsters are, doesn't it? When it comes to doling out death and destruction, humanity could give any creature in the Foundation's cells a run for their money. And the tragic case of SCP-1000 is proof of that.

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Item #: SCP-1000

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: All media reports related to SCP-1000 are to be examined for potential verifiability. All organizations and individuals investigating SCP-1000's existence are to be kept under surveillance by Mobile Task Force Zeta-1000 and discredited or administered amnestics. All physical signs of SCP-1000's existence must be retrieved and kept in Foundation custody, and replaced with decoy items if necessary. Alleged sightings of SCP-1000 must always be investigated by MTF Zeta-1000, however trivial the claim.

Absolutely no contact with wild or captive instances of SCP-1000 is allowed without prior approval by Director Jones. Any interaction between SCP-1000 and humans, including Foundation personnel, must be reported to Director Jones immediately.

Description: SCP-1000 is a nocturnal, omnivorous ape, classified in the Hominini branch along with genera Pan and Homo. Adults range in size from 1.5 to 3 m (5 to 10 ft) in height, and weigh between 90 and 270 kg (200 - 600 lbs). They have grey, brown, black, red, and occasionally white fur. They possess large eyes with good vision, a pronounced brow ridge, and a sagittal crest on the forehead similar to that of the gorilla, but present in both sexes. Their intelligence is on par with that of Pan troglodytes (the common chimpanzee).

SCP-1000 evolved alongside Homo sapiens, existing contemporaneously with proto-humans and humans in large numbers until 10,000-15,000 years ago, when an extinction event eliminated all but 1-5% of their population. This event was triggered by SCP-1000 contracting an anomalous "pseudo-disease" classified as SCP-1000-f1. This disease is passed on at the genetic level and affects every present-day instance of SCP-1000. The majority of SCP-1000 instances are born immune to the effect; those who are not born immune quickly die.

The effect of SCP-1000-f1 is as follows: Any hominid (including humans, chimpanzees, bonobos, and non-immune instances of SCP-1000) that directly or indirectly observes any instance of SCP-1000 has a minimum 2% chance of being instantly killed through anomalous means via permanent cessation of brain function. This percentage is cumulative, and the longer a human views SCP-1000, the higher the chance of instantaneous death increases, at a rate of +1% chance per 20 minutes of viewing. This effect varies between individual members of SCP-1000's species, with some individuals carrying a 'death chance' of 90%. The effect is also produced by dead individuals, though small fur samples do not exhibit the effect.

Known means of preventing this effect are small-scale only and include [REDACTED] (see attached documentation; Level 3 clearance required).

Because of SCP-1000's close relation to humanity, it is considered likely that SCP-1000-f1 could eventually transfer to human carriers. Any instance of SCP-1000 finding its way to a major population center could constitute an ██-class end of the world scenario with a minimum death toll of [REDACTED] and possible extinction of humanity. Fortunately, SCP-1000 appears to instinctively avoid human contact.

It is not currently feasible to exterminate SCP-1000 entirely.

The highest known population concentrations of SCP-1000 are at present located in the Pacific Northwest region of North America and the Himalayan Mountain range in Asia. As of ██/██/████, these populations remain extant. SCP-1000's presence and [DATA EXPUNGED] have also been documented within the past 5 years on every continent. All known significant populations of SCP-1000 located near human population centers have been eliminated.

SCP-1000 came to the attention of the Foundation via contact by Doctor Franz M███████ in 14██ with the Children of the Sun, who identified themselves as outcast members of the Serpent's Hand. This group has since been completely destroyed by the Foundation, due to their reluctance to surrender information about SCP-1000, SCP-███, and SCP-███ (since reclassified as SCP-1000-███ and SCP-1000-███). Remaining members have either joined the Foundation or have gone into hiding, presumably as members of the Serpent's Hand. Weapons, tools, and other unique pseudo-technological resources in possession of the organization have been classified as SCP-1000-001 through SCP-1000-████. These resources have been made use of by the Foundation in multiple instances; for a full list, see Document 1000-3534-Y (Level 3 clearance required). Access to surviving ex-members of the Children of the Sun is restricted to personnel with clearance level 4/1000 unless given direct authorization for contact by Director Jones.

Further information is available to personnel with clearance level 3/1000 or above. Personnel with clearance level 3/1000 or above are required to read Document Alpha-1596-1000.

Addendum 1000-466-X: Update to Special Containment Procedures: As of ██/██/████, SCP-1000's Special Containment Procedures no longer include Procedure 516-Lumina. [DATA EXPUNGED] indicates that SCP-1000 may be developing a resistance to the sonic element [DATA EXPUNGED] will not develop further, so that Procedure 516-Lumina can still be used in emergency situations. Investigation into alternate means of reliably keeping SCP-1000 away from human population centers is underway. Whether SCP-1000 resistance to Procedure 516-Lumina was calculated (and as such may be a sign of SCP-1000 [REDACTED]) or coincidental (by chance of natural species variation) is not known at this time.