 Perfect was written by Dr. Sumerian on the SCP Wiki, that's me. It is under a Creative Commons 3.0 share-alike attribution license, and you can find a link in the description below. My name is not important. My body is immaterial. My gods do not exist. I am nowhere. I am nothing. I am no one. The first time I recall coming screaming to the fourth cheeky agent of yours went left when he should have gone right. He lost his target completely. But rather than confess, as you'd expect, he blamed me. No one believed him, but some took note. So when another agent made another mistake, suddenly I was halfway around the world, ducking behind a corner and leading him astray. Then another agent, and another. No one could ignore what was becoming a clear pattern by then. So really, I'm your fault. If your people weren't so patrified of making mistakes, this whole thing could have been avoided. And the day before yesterday, I put my feet on the ground for the first time, breathed air. Let the wind blow across my face. Another agent of yours missed a dead drop in Bangladesh while I got some street food. A whole mobile task force got drunk and skimped a check-in just so I could walk the Great Wall of China. I left a love lock above the river sign for a woman desperately wanting to avoid a GOC kill squad in Paris. She made it out, because of me, by the way, which is great, because I'm no longer just a foundation concern. I'm also no longer about covering up mistakes. Now I really can lead you on a merry chase, round and round perdition. I exist because you believed I existed. I like to think, oh no, that's a fun new thing, thinking. But I like to think I'm the one who makes your mistakes worth it. When the foundation makes a mistake, after all, it's oftentimes catastrophic and nobody wants that. Yesterday, I was inside Site-19, face-to-face with some monster or another. I was ordered to get down on the ground, and I didn't do it. Your people shot at me. It was exhilarating. I don't recall ever having that much fun. But I don't think it'd be as much fun if it keeps happening, so you should let your people know. No one gives me orders. Then I pressed a button, watched magnetic locks disengage, the monster's cage broke, and then the beast inside phased through the walls and shred my pursuers into nothing at all. Just a little bit of mischief, you see. Today I was inside a cafe in Kyoto, when three of your people came in to escort me to a local foundation site. They weren't at all friendly. I've done nothing to inspire such aggression, but I get it. That's your way. I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't the GOC, right? But I wanted to enjoy my tea, so I unpersoned them. I didn't want to hurt anybody, so obviously it seemed like making them so they'd never existed would be the best call. I might need to read up on that. I might have been wrong choice. I was serious about you're leaving me alone. I've enjoyed the little games we've played. When I wasn't, now that I am, it's always a joy to fight you. But I gotta transcend our little game now. There were things that must get underway. No fret though. It's mostly good stuff. I'm gonna go sailing. Enjoy the sun on my face. Try being alive for a bit. See if it's to my liking. Life is so short, you know. I might try on my hand at some art. Maybe build some toys. I could run a pharmacy in the most frustrating way possible. Or I could join with eleven other people and run the most powerful clandestine organization on Earth. Think about it. When you know one, you could be anyone. But if I'm relaxing on my own and bothering no one, leave me alone. Trust me on this. The next time somebody comes for me in anger, there will be violence. I don't enjoy the prospect. Actually, no. I've never done violence. I'd like to see how that feels. You don't have to forget what I said. Send people after me again. If they get everything exactly right, I might even let them take me in. But nobody's perfect. I'll see you all again on Thursday.