 Item Number – SCP-104 Object Class – Euclid Special Containment Procedures – SCP-104 is currently contained in a steel box with electronic keypad access. Access is to be restricted to Class 3 and higher. Do not allow SCP-104 to come in contact with any living tissue. Any and all interaction with SCP-104 is to be handled via robotic assistance or with full hazmat suits and gloves. Anyone found to be imprinted by SCP-104 must submit for unimprinting. Failure to do so within 24 hours of exposure will result in termination. Description – SCP-104 is a sphere 35.5 cm or 14 inches around and weighing 2.3 kg or 5 pounds. The outside is glass and very smooth, coating the sphere in a layer 6 mm or 0.2 inches thick. Under this layer is an extremely intricate design of very thin black and white lines. This inner core is a delicately carved ball of wood giving slight texture to the line design. The design itself is unimaginably complex and seems to form something of a Rorschach test, as all viewers seem to have a different interpretation. One door ticking sound from inside the sphere has been reported, but at this time is unconfirmed. Whenever a human touches SCP-104 in its unimprinted state, it will imprint on the subject. If the imprinted subject moves more than 9 meters or 30 feet from SCP-104 for more than 5 minutes, SCP-104 will appear within 2 meters or 7 feet of the imprinted subject. This shift appears instantaneous, disappearing and reappearing in less than a nanosecond, regardless of distance or intervening objects. Every hour that the subject remains within 9 meters or 30 feet of SCP-104, it will move one foot closer to the subject until it is touching the subject. When SCP-104 is touching its imprinted subject, it will not attempt to move closer. SCP-104 will not exhibit this behavior to nonimprinted subjects, and will only imprint on one subject at a time. Thick cloth or metal appears to block the imprinting in most cases. Testing of SCP-104 with multiple instances of SCP-1680 suggests this imprinting is not genetically based, as SCP-104 does not change behaviors when faced with multiple genetically identical subjects. SCP-104 also appears to be indestructible, in that it always appears whole and undamaged after reappearing. Even after being crushed and incinerated, SCP-104 will reappear, whole and undamaged, if its imprinted subject is outside of its minimum range for more than 5 minutes. SCP-104 causes paranoia and anger in most subjects, but this is not an effect of the sphere, as some are wholly unaffected by the constant presence of SCP-104, if slightly annoyed at times. SCP-104 can only be unimprinted if the subject is killed or enters a near-death-like state. SCP-104 will then enter its unimprinted state until touched. Thick gloves appear to block the imprinting process, as long as they are more than 13 millimeters or 0.5 inches thick. SCP-104 was recovered in a flea market from a man carrying it in a bowling bag. The man never identified himself, and sold it to age a... for a quarter, thanking him profusely before running off. Notes 104-1108-R. It has been theorized that SCP-104 is some form of extra-dimensional probe or recording device. This appears to be unlikely, as it appears to be made of terrestrial materials and has no means by which to record or observe anything. However, with few other explanations for its odd behavior, the theory is being investigated. Dr. P... Item number SCP-190. Object Class. Safe. Special Containment Procedures. SCP-190 is kept in Security Locker 23, at Site 41. Everyone under the age of 10 are not allowed within 50 meters of SCP-190, except under testing conditions. All personnel working at Site 41 are to be made aware of SCP-190's secondary effect, and its innocuous nature. Personnel transfer requests made due to SCP-190's secondary effect are to be expedited, unless doing so would violate the special containment procedures for another item. All individuals who have directly interacted with SCP-190 are to be monitored indefinitely for long-term side effects. Description. SCP-190 is a carved wooden box, banded with iron, measuring 50 cm by 70 cm by 35 cm. The lid is carved with a representation of a large circus tent, with an open central panel, within which stands a figure dressed as a stereotypical ringmaster. The carvings on the sides consist of assorted animals, typically associated with circuses, including lions, tigers, bears, elephants, and horses. These carvings move at a maximum observed rate of approximately 5 mm per day, and time-lapse monitoring indicates that the depicted creatures appear to be acting in a non-violent play behavior with each other. When an individual aged 10 or older opens the hinged lid, SCP-190 contains 17 marbles of assorted size and color, 2 sticks of lightly used green sidewalk chalk, and 1 deck of bicycle brand playing cards. These objects can be manipulated within the confines of SCP-190, but cannot be removed from it. Attempts to remove these objects encounter an otherwise undetectable, impenetrable barrier stretching across the opening to the box. When an individual aged 10 or older who interact with SCP-190 or its contents, typically report feelings of unease or discomfort, until they cease interacting with them. When an individual under the age of 10 opens SCP-190, it will contain 1-5 toys or games intended for use by children. Observed objects include stuffed animals, rubber balls, yo-yos, dolls, blocks, and simple board games. These objects can be freely removed from SCP-190 by any pre-pubescent individual, although attempts by pubescent or post-pubescent encounter the same barrier described above. The objects typically possess a circus theme, depicting classic circus animals, venues, performers, and design schemes containing red, gold, white, stars, and or the initials HF. Children in the appropriate age range express great pleasure and excitement when playing with SCP-190, or the objects it produces, regardless of prior attitudes regarding toys or games of that type. Children exhibit more energetic play behaviors than they normally do, as well as more physical activities such as somersaults, cartwheels, climbing nearby objects, and simple one and two object juggling. Most play behaviors include incidental elements of causing harm to other people, especially those older than themselves. All objects produced by SCP-190 are capable of causing extreme damage, regardless of their composition. Representative samples below. Objects produced by SCP-190 vanish if placed back within it and the late is closed. Toy. Red and white striped rubber ball, with a gold star on one end. Usage by child. Eight-year-old male bounced against a wall 37 times prior to throwing it at a supervising junior researcher. Result. The wall had noticeable shallow dents where it had been struck. The junior researcher suffered two cracked ribs and significant soft tissue bruising where she had been struck. Child expressed disappointment that junior researcher didn't throw the ball back. Toy. Stuffed elephant made of felt, measuring 35 cm in height, wearing a red and gold saddle with the initials HF embroidered on the sides. Usage by child. Four-year-old female moved toy as if it were walking, child making trumpeting noises before making it step on the foot of supervisory D-class. Result. D-class's foot suffered multiple complex bone fractures and hemorrhaging consistent with a crush injury. Child chided D-class for getting in the way of the toy. Game. See the Big Top, a board game of similar design to the 2004 edition of Candyland. Usage by child. Six-year-old male begged supervisory D-class to play game until D-class was ordered to do so by researchers. Result. Child lost game and threw cards at D-class in anger. D-class suffered deep paper cuts to the face, hands, and forearms, requiring multiple bandages. Child hugged D-class after completion of game and asked if she would receive Batman adhesive bandages to make the boo-boos better. Toy. Tin container labeled junior clown kit containing 30 grams or one ounce of clown white grease paint, two red jumbo makeup pencils, two yellow gold makeup pencils, small hand mirror. Usage by child. Seven-year-old female decorated own face and that of supervisory D-class. Result. D-class suffered mild chemical burns where makeup had made contact with skin and developed persistent allergy to lanolin. Child was unharmed. Toy. Lacker finished red wooden rod, resembling a miniature version of SCP-2024. Usage by child. Nine-year-old female touched various furnishings around the room, including the supervisor D-class's arm. Result. D-class's arm tied into a knot. Child commented on D-class's improved physical appearance. After initial testing ceased following the determination of baseline properties, an additional property became apparent. If SCP-190 and its contents have not been used by a child under the age of 10 for 29.5 consecutive days, faint calliope music will be audible to all individuals within 50 meters of SCP-190. This music appears to act as a mild cognitohazard, wherein children under the age of 10 will seek out SCP-190 if they are aware of its existence. Long-term monitoring of individuals who interacted with SCP-190 as children revealed that they are approximately four times more likely than age peers to become performers once they are adults, either professionally or as a primary hobby. Equal examples include acrobatics, magic and sleight of hand, animal training, and improvisational oratory enacting. Subjects do not otherwise display statistically significant behavioral abnormalities. Item Number SCP-254 Object Class Safe Special Containment Procedures SCP-254 is to be kept at a standard storage locker when not in use. When in storage, it must be placed face down on the floor of the locker and secured with straps to prevent accidental activation. Use of SCP-254 may be requested by any department head and must be approved by at least two level three personnel. SCP-254 may not be used in a capacity that will result in SCP-254-1's contact, with SCPs posing a memetic contagion hazard. Under no circumstances is SCP-254 to be active in a single department or area for longer than 26 days. Reuse is permitted only if the area in question has undergone a complete personnel rotation, i.e. no employees remain who have had previous contact with SCP-254. Description SCP-254 is a rectangular wooden plaque measuring 22 cm by 30 cm and weighing approximately 1.5 kg. On the front of the plaque is an empty brass picture holder, as well as a printed metal plate with a black background and gold-colored letters reading, Employee of the Month. A fix to the back of the plaque is a standard hanging device. SCP-254 was discovered in the rubble of a Texaco gas station in Ruffin, Kansas in 1951. A Foundation agent secured SCP-254 after discovering that it had sustained no damage in the explosion that had leveled the gas station and resulted in the deaths of numerous employees and civilians. When SCP-254 is hung on a wall in a work area of four or more people, SCP-254-1 will appear soon afterward. SCP-254-1 will arrive either at the end of the next designated break period or at the beginning of the following work shift. SCP-254-1 is an incorporeal human of variable gender, age, race, name, and appearance, able to manipulate objects in the manner similar to that of a normal human of average strength and coordination. SCP-254-1 will adopt the appearance and persona of a model employee based on an area's mimetic consensus. Once SCP-254-1's appearance has been established, an image of SCP-254-1 that appears to be an 8x10 glossy photograph fills the empty picture holder and it will not change until SCP-254 is moved to a new location. Across the bottom of the photograph, in print, is the newly assumed name of SCP-254-1. The photograph cannot be removed from the picture holder by any known means, but it can be torn or ripped. Doing so in an aggressive or purposeful manner results in a violent reaction from SCP-254-1. Regardless of appearance, SCP-254-1 maintains a cheerful demeanor at all times. SCP-254-1 is able to carry on conversations about the weather, traffic, the previous night's TV shows, sports, and other such topics. Although SCP-254-1 will never discuss topics of which present individuals have no knowledge, personnel assigned to work in an area where SCP-254 is in use do not appear alarmed by SCP-254-1's incorporeal nature or sudden appearance, stating that SCP-254-1, quote, works here. Due to local personnel's reluctance to remove the plaque, or inability to remember to remove the plaque, removal is to be scheduled and performed by offsite personnel. SCP-254-1 is capable of performing menial tasks quickly and efficiently. When given tasks that require specialized training, although SCP-254-1 does not possess the required expertise, she will attempt them with the usual good attitude, but will perform as well as an average person could be expected to perform. SCP-254-1 will continue to perform as exemplary an employee as possible for a length of time between 28 to 46 work days, usually ending at the conclusion of a calendar month. If SCP-254 is placed in a workplace several days into a calendar month, SCP-254-1 will act as an effective employee until the end of the following month, although due to the dangers posed by shifting the medic consensus. No use of SCP-254 for longer than 26 days is permitted. After the month has passed, if SCP-254 is not removed, SCP-254-1 will begin to degrade in performance, beginning with an unhelpful attitude and forgetfulness. If SCP-254 is not removed, SCP-254-1 will become a worse and worse employee until, quote, fired. Employment can be represented by removing SCP-254 from the wall or by informing SCP-254-1 of its termination. If SCP-254-1 is fired within approximately 20 days from the start of its decline in performance, SCP-254-1 simply leaves the area and disappears. Following cessation of employment after this point, SCP-254-1 will actively sabotage the work area in the most destructive manner possible, posing severe hazards to any nearby personnel. And the world, people! We work with SCPs here, and if proper removal arrangements are not made with off-site security and documented with on-site security, the offending employee will find themselves jobless or worse. Addendum. Following incident 254-0210G, all tests on employing SCP-254-1 beyond 26 days must be conducted at a separate site containing no other SCPs. No exceptions. No 5-0254-A13 Dr. This is Dr. This is experiment number 13 on SCP-254. I'm using a standard Phillips head screwdriver to attempt to remove the brass fitting from SCP-254. There are 15 seconds of tool-working sounds. It appears that these screws are affixed by means beyond the normal, perhaps glue or something else. SCP-254-1 going by Gus, this iteration. Would you like me to get you some solvents, sir? Dr. No thanks, Gus. No need. Would you hand me that box cutter? I'll try cutting this picture out. Gus. Really? Why would you want to do that? I think that plaque looks Jim Dandy right where it is. Dr. Now, now. This isn't an insult to you, Gus. You're a great employee. This is an experiment. Gus. Okay, doc. I trust you. There's a slight paper ripping noise. Gus. Whatcha doing, doc? Would you please not do that? Dr. Just a little bit fir- The audio of the two cuts out and there are five hard banging sounds. Presumably, SCP-254-1 slamming Dr. P***'s head against the table. Then there is a wet sound, as the box cutter is data-expunged. End of tape. Experiment log, 254-B, testing on extended employment of SCP-254-1 as a janitor at Sector 1. Day 26. End of standard employment period reached. SCP-254-1's performance continues to meet high standards. Day 32. First sign of performance degradation noted. SCP-254-1 leaves a dirty rag on one of the research assistant's desk. Apologetic when rag is noticed and returned. Day 34. SCP-254-1 is mopping the floor in Sector 1 when a hurrying technician trips over the bucket of cleaning solution. SCP-254-1 recorded cursing at the technician. Day 35. End of the calendar month. SCP-254-1 described as sullen by a late-working researcher. Break room kitchen in Sector 1 left uncleaned. Coffee spilled around Dr. P***'s garbage can. Day 36. SCP-254-1 reprimanded by supervisor for apparent drunkenness. Note, very odd, SCP-254-1 has never been seen to eat or drink. Day 39. SCP-254-1 fails to return cleaning solutions to the janitorial closet. Near disaster when mentally disturbed test subject finds a bottle of ammonia-based cleaner in a bathroom. SCP-254-1 reprimanded for carelessness. A fellow janitor observed in a verbal altercation with SCP-254-1. Both parties are somewhat vague on the cause of the quarrel. Day 43. SCP-254-1 again observed to be apparently drunk on duty. Cleaning is becoming noticeably more erratic. Day 48. Fire alarm goes off in Sector P***. False alarm. Ink markers fail to pinpoint a culprit, but SCP-254-1 was observed near the tripped alarm a few minutes prior to the incident. Security footage unavailable due to an unidentifiable object blocking the camera's view of the hallway. Day 56. Dr. P*** upgrades SCP-254-1 for removing perishable items from the lab refrigerator and shredding irreplaceable experiment logs. SCP-254-1 calls said doctor data expunged and threatens to data expunged. Security called. Day 58. Kitchen knife found stabbed deeply into Dr. P***'s whiteboard. Said doctors locked secure documents safe has been opened and rifled. Guard posted at the door to said doctor's office. SCP-254-1 recorded arguing with undisclosed and raised voices in the staff break room. Day 59. Janitor S. signs in to work, but fails to report to supervisor. Located by accident several hours later, trapped in the cold storage rooms, attached to an autopsy theater, suffering from severe hypothermia. Guard on duty at Dr. P***'s office incapacitated by a blow to the head. Crude human figure formed from a mop head impaled on a broken mop handle, driven through Dr. P***'s desk chair. SCP-254-1 nowhere to be found. Day 60. At Dr. P***'s request, SCP-254 removed from the wall. SCP-254-1 leaves the building and vanishes. Day 61. SCP-254-1 caught on camera in Sector P*** late at night. Power failure and multiple backup system failures caused several containment breaches, resulting in numerous direct casualties and a few further losses from sterilization of an outbreak of SCP- Room number SCP-282 Object Class Safe. Special Containment Procedures SCP-282 should be kept in a containment locker, outfitted with a standard array of explosive, chemical, biological, and mimetic high-level defenses. Personnel entering SCP-282's containment must be verified with a retinal scanner and no experimentation sessions lasting longer than three hours are permitted. SCP-282 is a children's toy, recovered from the truck atoll in Micronesia. SCP-282 is in the shape of a set of devil or juggling sticks, apparently made from locally available materials. Historical and cultural sources show that SCP-282 was originally used by natives of its island of origin as part of an elaborate annual ritual known as *** literally translated as *** he moves. To bring good luck for the following year, numerous anomalies on the island alerted the foundation to SCP-282's presence, including exceptionally long harvest seasons, several unknown species of fruit growing locally, and reports by missionaries of strange lights and noises, and packs of children who appeared identical. Full research on SCP-282's properties is pending. Addendum 282A End-up operations in the truck atoll have recovered large amounts of information, including a nearly complete set of use instructions for SCP-282. Operations in the atoll will be reduced, and despite apprehension from teams assisting in recovery of SCP-282, full testing as to whether anomalous properties can be recreated will continue. Addendum 282B Personnel of level 4 or above may view incident report 282CB. As of *** any attempts to recreate the effects of SCP-282 are punishable by termination. All remaining information is to be classified. Data Expunged Addendum 282C Materials seized from a residence on the truck atoll resembled an incomplete replica of SCP-282. As the replica, seemingly in the process of creation, demonstrates no anomalous properties, that has been added to SCP-282's containment, until such a time as we can ascertain its nature. Foundation-operated coercion revealed little information as to how or why it was created, but did indicate that more civilians in the area of recovery may know how or be interested in creating similar replicas. Whether the recovered replica is identical to SCP-282 is unknown. Incident Report 282CB Personal log of Dr. J. Garrison, date undisclosed. Attempts to recreate the ritual described in documents 282-14-17 are slow going, mostly due to the exhausting requirements of using SCP-282. First of all, it took us half a week to find anyone at the site who can actually use juggling sticks. For reference, researcher M. Munoz, a medical technology analyst, was ultimately chosen as the subject. Second, SCP-282 are apparently very difficult to use, compared to ordinary juggling sticks, so he had to spend a few weeks working on that. Third, and most persistent and annoyingly, the instructions we have call for the subject to juggle with SCP-282 constantly for 36 hours, with a low rate of error, and no dropping the stick. And that's the reason it's taken us two months so far. I can talk about dedication and project funding and results, but the stamina required is damn near superhuman. It's been suggested that we apply an intravenous drip of caffeine and electrolytes to maintain alertness, and I'm willing to try that. Hour Zero Subject stands in a 10 meter by 10 meter blast chamber that has been prepared according to recovered instructions. Among other preparations, subject stands in the center of a 1.5 meter diameter circle marked with native flowers, with a goat's head at the interior point. Surrounding this circle is a 3 meter circle marked with a mixture of goat and chicken entrails, mashed by hand with wooden implements. Outside of this is a final 3.5 meter circle, marked with chicken feathers, chicken and goat footprints and ash, an apoltis of several herbs and human blood. One chicken skeleton and one goat skeleton have been laid around the room, outside the perimeter of the final circle. The subject, medical technician M. Munoz, with attached intravenous drip, stands in the center with SCP-282. Subject begins to use SCP-282. Hour One Subject continues with no major errors in play or reports of anomalies. Vital signs are all normal. Six hours already. He hasn't dropped it yet. Very hopeful that this time will be it. I watch through the plate glass, get nervous every time he fumbles. Every time. It's gotten a little ridiculous. I'm worried it might be an effect of the SCP, so I told the standing guard. But I think it's more stress than a mental pull. Going to call a secondary observer in and sleep on the cod in here. Woke up and he's still going. Note, instruments and testing chambers showed that subject's heart rate had increased slightly by this point in time. Hour 18 Subject notes sounds of laughter from inside the testing chamber. Outside observer notes nothing abnormal. Hour 23 Subject becomes increasingly paranoid, claiming that the experiment won't work and asking if he can stop. Encouraged to continue juggling, and at no point does the subject drop the stick, hypothesized to be a stress reaction. Hour 26 Subject claims to feel a breeze in the chamber. Signs of strong winds are apparent when animal skeletons outside the circles are moved as if being blown. However, none of the flowers in the first circle are disturbed, nor is subject's play impaired. Hour 27 All lights in chamber abruptly dim. In addition, the outer circle appears to completely and suddenly disappear from view. Signs of wind, despite the enclosed and subterranean nature of the blast chamber, have increased. Subject is encouraged to continue juggling. Note, later records show no electrical issues with chamber lights. Hypothesized to be an effect of the SCP. Hour 30 Subject reports feeling cold, senses affirmed that the temperature inside the chamber has dropped 20 degrees. Continues juggling. I nearly can't believe he's kept it moving this long. Obviously, the error frequency was expected to go up as the time goes longer, but he hasn't dropped it once, and the error rate seems to have decreased like it's getting ingrained. Here comes the final stretch. Looks tired, but I don't blame him. Hour 32 Second circle moves as if being blown inwards, then disappears entirely. Subject makes no note of this. After 10 minutes, animal skeletons around the perimeter of the chamber stand up, despite lack of muscle or connective tissue. Subject becomes unresponsive, muttering quietly. Hour 33 Final circle disappears, and lights dim again, until area inside chamber is completely dark. Observers note a voice exclaiming, he moves, before sounds of juggling cease, and a clattering noise is heard. Class 2 lockdown is ordered. Note, further analysis through infrared camera reveals that at Hour 3314, the subject's knees buckle, and after muttering loudly before footage is interrupted by several bright flashes, apparently only visible to infrared sensors. During this time, subject disappears entirely, and SCP-282 falls to the ground. Hour 34 Sounds of juggling resume from inside the chamber. Note, infrared cameras show that a figure not corresponding to M-Munus appeared in the testing chamber, recovered as SCP-282 from the floor, and continued juggling while laughing quietly. Hour 35 Several more infrared flashes occur, some of which now translate into flashes in the visible spectrum. Containment chamber is very dark. At 3528 hours, side of containment chamber is ruptured by a sudden heat, measuring over 10 degrees Celsius. Camera footage shows the unknown force proceeding to destroy obstacles in its path via obliteration, moving up an emergency stairwell, damaging stairwell but without compromising it structurally. At ground level, it proceeds to carve a route through the facility until the perimeter of sight is reached, at which point it is no longer seen. All of the above take place within 4.7 seconds. By personnel report seeing only a bright hot light. Note, camera footage shows that upon compromising the perimeter of the facility, the force paused for several milliseconds, then disappeared, as opposed to exiting the facility. Infrared footage from the testing chamber shows that it is completely empty at this time. Within several seconds, light in testing chamber returns to normal. Subject has returned to testing chamber, collapsed on the floor, with SCP-282 nearby as if dropped. In addition, a fine layer of ash covers the testing room floor. Paramedic teams rush in. Subject is currently undergoing treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder, and is expected to resume normal operation shortly. After action report. From interview with subject M. Munoz, I'm, I'm juggling, right? Like I've been doing for the last, hell, whole day. Then everything picks up, like I'm standing in a fucking hurricane, and I feel this thing don't even know what it is, but it was there, and I could, Christ. Everything went black, and I knew that I had moved, that I was somewhere else, because I knew there wasn't a floor or ceiling or those goddamn sticks where I was, just nothing really, and the darkness. And then it was there. God damn it, I knew it, that there was something else there, even though I couldn't see or hear or feel it, because there was nothing to see or hear or feel. It was just waiting there, keeping me there, waiting for me to do something, and I curled up in this little ball, tried to make it not notice me, but it was there, breathing down my neck the whole time. In the end, I just told it I wanted to leave, that was it. Item number, SCP-421, Object Class, Euclid. Local Containment Procedures SCP-421 is contained near Sector 28, by means of a steel anti-submarine net, positioned across the mouth of the bay found at... The net is to be examined for damage weekly by Sector 28's staff, or immediately, upon observation of abnormal behavior of SCP-421, civilian shipping should be prevented from entering the bay. Local charts have been altered to indicate the presence of subsurface rocks, dangerous to vessels throughout the area. The bay containing SCP-421 has been dredged by Foundation vessels, to allow for simulation of a deep sea environment. As it is believed, this encourages SCP-421 to remain docile. SCP-421 should be fed on a bimonthly basis. Current feed consists of a wooden fishing vessel, typically at least 15 meters in length, and preferably in a dilapidated condition. The feed vessel should be floated out into the middle of the SCP-421 bay before being scuttled. It is noted that SCP-421 could theoretically consume significantly more material than it is currently provided with. Current feeding protocols are designed to maintain the total mass of SCP-421 at the present level. SCP-421 is an organism comprised entirely of driftwood and other oceanic waste. The exact configuration of the organism appears to be in constant flux, but typically consists of a centralized body of relatively tightly packed driftwood surrounded by a shoal of smaller organisms similar in appearance and behavior to fish. Individual members of the shoal are regularly subsumed, or created from the main body and have demonstrated no ability to reconfigure themselves while separated from the bulk of SCP-421. It is hypothesized that SCP-421 possesses a hive intelligence, similar to that observed in social insects. Members of the SCP-421 shoal are able to travel independently for several kilometers, beyond which they lose integrity, and are reduced to simple driftwood, with no known anomalous properties. Although typically docile, SCP-421 requires a regular supply of fresh wood to maintain its mass. The role of the shoal appears to be to locate suitable material and transport it to the main body, within which it rapidly becomes indistinguishable from the wider mass of driftwood. Sources of this wood vary. SCP-421 has been observed harvesting wood from shipwrecks and collecting material floating at the ocean surface. SCP-421 has also been recorded assaulting ships, with the shoal typically ramming against a single point below the waterline, until the target capsizes, before stripping the vessel of all wooden components within reach. SCP-421 was first encountered in 1970 following the unexplained destruction of a yacht, owned by Data Expunged. Survivors reported sailing through an unexpected mass of driftwood that appeared to be moving against the prevailing current. Soon after initial contact with the mass, the yacht was hauled and rapidly began to sink. Reports that the driftwood appeared to be dragging parts of the yacht beneath the surface were dismissed by local investigators, but attracted the attention of the Foundation, who assumed responsibility for the case. An extensive underwater survey eventually found some traces of the wreck of the yacht. An estimated 80% of the vessel's wooden structure was missing. Sporadic reports of similar incidents continued throughout the next two decades, during which time, SCP-421 is believed to have been responsible for the loss of wreck vessels a year. SCP-421 was captured in 1990 and moved to its current containment location. Since this date, dozens of reports of events similar to its attacks have been recorded. It is speculated that at least one more wild shoal still exists. Addendum 421A During scheduled feeding on date expunged, anomalous behavior by SCP-421 was recorded. The shoal harvesting the provided wreck was estimated as 50% larger than normal, resulting in a far quicker assimilation of material into the main body of the SCP. In monitoring of SCP-421 revealed that the central mass had condensed into a denser configuration than normal, and that the feeding shoal did not subsequently rejoin it, instead remaining in close proximity as a cloud surrounding the main body. Two days after initial observation of anomalous behavior, the central mass of SCP-421 was recorded settling close to the seafloor. A part of the shoal was observed to leave the cloud and begin moving around the compound in what has been described as an exploratory pattern, seemingly in an effort to retrieve any material not yet subsumed into SCP-421. Though it had decreased in density since the feeding, ultrasound monitoring of the main body appeared to indicate the formation of a solid structure within it, distinguishable from the standard mass of SCP-421 as not being in constant motion. On this basis, authorization was granted for the use of an ROV to examine the interior of the central mass. Upon deployment of ROV, the SCP-421 shoal appeared to become agitated. ROV was able to successfully penetrate the outer cloud surrounding the main body of SCP-421. Contact was lost soon after. The wreckage of the ROV was subsequently drawn into the central mass of SCP-421. This is believed to be the first time SCP-421 has damaged a non-wooden vessel. Investigation is ongoing. Item number SCP-550 Object Class Euclid Special Containment Procedures SCP-550 is to be held in a standard-sized humanoid cell. SCP-550 should be provided with a human corpse on a bi-weekly basis. Any remaining materials are to be cleaned and removed from the containment chamber after provision. All personnel handling SCP-550 are to wear provided chemical-resistant gloves and hazmat suits at all times. Directions made toward SCP-550 may be broadcast from speakers, installed in its containment chamber, and should be used for transportation, maintenance, and testing. Description SCP-550 is a humanoid composed of wood shavings from Fraxinus Excelsior, European ash, measuring 2.1 meters in height and 70 kilograms in weight. SCP-550 closely resembles a human male suffering from advanced muscle atrophy, though it lacks all exterior and bodily organs. SCP-550 is mainly compliant to human subjects, though it is restricted to following simple commands. Conversation through alternative systems of communication has been unsuccessful in determining if SCP-550 is sapient. SCP-550 is able to smell despite the lack of any sensory organs and does this solely for the purpose of locating human corpses. SCP-550 is mainly drawn toward corpses and early stages of putrification. If no such cadaver is in the vicinity, it will attempt to locate one itself through bipedal locomotion. Upon finding a cadaver, SCP-550 will unravel itself to create a wide split in the area where a chest would be and will kneel over the cadaver and make physical contact with the cavity. This cavity does not appear to be different from SCP-550's exterior, and it secretes high concentrations of hydrochloric acid. The acid produced by SCP-550 does not dissolve the wood it is covered in. SCP-550 is capable of incorporating simple molecules and compounds through its cavity. The hydrochloric acid it produces is used in breaking down organic substances located in corpses, allowing it to take nutrients through pores in the wood it is composed of. SCP-550 mainly intakes amino acids in various proteins, though it is unclear in how it uses them to maintain itself. SCP-550 will continue making contact with its chosen corpse before closing its chest cavity and standing up. SCP-550 will then release a slurry of materials, mostly containing loose portions of epidermis, articles of clothing, if present on the corpse, and stomach bile. When deprived of corpses for several days, SCP-550 will enter a dormant state and refrain from movement for an indefinite period of time until a corpse is available. Addendum 550. Recovery SCP-550 was found at the site of a mass grave in South Africa. Foundation intelligence was made aware of rumors being passed between locals regarding a ghoul, descriptions of which had been marked deviations from traditional folklore. MTF Beta-7, Maz Hatters, was dispatched with orders to confirm the existence of a potential Euclid-class being and to retrieve it on the Foundation's behalf. Twenty-eight corpses were found to have been damaged by SCP-550, and protocol Sone Veil was enacted to restore bodies to acceptable conditions. Several ritualistic items such as incense, candles, pieces of a large cloth stained with various bodily fluids, utensils, pots, plates, and various salts and spices were found scattered throughout the graveyard. One person was reported missing in the town of SCP-550's original location, a local resident named Sionda... No corpse has been found that matches the civilian. Other town members claimed it had begun taking regular trips to a neighboring town prior to their disappearance. On search of the civilian's home, a voicemail from a public phone located in the town was found. No other evidence of possible involvement with SCP-550 was discovered. Forward, the following is translated from the Bantu language belonging to the Zulus. Coughing and heavy breathing, masculine voice. We know you feel it in you. I know you do not want to answer me. You need to come. We are here to open those shredded bonds. Never mind their state. You're famished. Make you are not hungry. Where do you expect to hide from what you need? A feminine voice can be heard whispering for four seconds before the caller makes a sound of approval. Kety Wies says she is prepared, so now it is only up to you. Do you not want to let it burn through your bones, mixing you into the slime from where we began? Do you not want to become one with the saliva of the beast, soaking in the juices of your kin? You know what to do. We want to bring ourselves inside the beast. This is not something you should be afraid of. Further unknown background noises are heard. See, Slindil has already brought forth her tendons. Fresh. Just look at her pinch the eye out. Lord, I can't wait to feel what it is like inside him. Addendum 550A1. 419. 2011. Analysis of SCP-550 skin samples shows the presence of mucosal cells and microvilli and confirms skin pigmentation as melanin. Dr. Wies has suggested and authorized an MRI scan without sedation. Scan postponed following incident SCP-550-T1. Incident 550-T1. At 3.43am, date expunged, surveillance showed that SCP-550 had begun pacing in its cell during research of its dormant state. Agent M and Dr. Wies were given permission to investigate. Surveillance footage shows that standard foundation procedure was followed and no abnormalities were found until personnel left. SCP-550 immediately lay down in its cell until a large black tongue, anatomically human, erupted from within SCP-550. Site 36 was placed under lockdown, while the tongue protruding from SCP-550 had begun slathering the entirety of its containment cell. Two minutes and 14 seconds had passed before the tongue withdrew into SCP-550. An amount of black viscous saliva containing various amounts of organic material from all previously consumed corpses was left on containment chamber walls, along with what appeared to be an intact traditional black zulu dress. Note, thorough analysis of this material revealed significant teeters of a heavily modified variant strain of SCP-742. Additional analysis of genetic material, including the accompanying viral particles, showed significant splicing and incorporation of functional genes from a variety of plants and several scavenger species, aligning with genetic analysis of recovered samples of SCP-3140. Shortly after incident 550-T1, the tongue belonging to SCP-550 has been recorded to randomly protrude from SCP-550's chest cavity for several seconds. SCP-550 has resorted to remaining in a fetal position, presumably to prevent an event similar to the recent incident. No further deviations and behavior have been noted. Containment procedures are currently being updated.