 Item number, SCP-025. Object Class, Safe. Special Containment Procedures. SCP-025 is only to be opened during testing, as is the room in which SCP-025 is stored. Entry codes are to be given only to authorized research and security personnel, no other containment protocols required. Description, SCP-025 is a wooden wardrobe, measuring 0.97 meters by 0.62 meters by 1.95 meters, full of clothing dating from a number of time periods. Articles contained within the chest, collectively named SCP-025-1, match with styles of decades from the 1920s to the present. The apparel from each time frame varies with regard to style. For example, a polyester-striped shirt and a pair of charcoal soup pants both correspond with general styles of the 1970s. The only unifying aspect of every article contained in SCP-025 is that each one is in poor condition. Moths have eaten at much of the collection, and tears and runs are not uncommon. When any item from SCP-025 is put on, the wearer is observed to either to die or suffer an injury within 24 hours. The cause of death or injury in these instances is invariably linked to the aforementioned flaws in the clothing, but only ever appears to be an unrelated incident. Wearing a glove with a fingertip cut off may result in the loss of the fingertip through a simple kitchen accident like chopping onions. Similarly, a subject wearing a poncho with a sleeve missing will somehow cause the loss of the uncovered arm, be it an attack by a wild animal or a vehicular accident that necessitates the amputation of the limb. If placed in a sealed, unfurnished enclosure while wearing an item from the chest, the wearer will either seemingly spontaneously contract a flesh-eating disease that begins in the areas not covered by the clothing or suffer the failure of an organ located beneath an imperfection in the article. Diseases arising from such incidents may or may not be contagious. No study has been successfully undertaken due to the speed at which the strains observed run their course. Recommended that, if possible, samples of the disease be taken to lab for possible weaponization. Following is an abridged testing log of SCP-025. More thorough testing will accompany the declassification of the document in its entirety. Test log, SCP-025, section 1. Subject, D-778, a 42-year-old white male. Article, 1940s-era white tuxedo. Imperfections, torn seam in left shoulder. Test results. Subject was allowed free roam of the halls under agent Warrant Supervision. For approximately 45 minutes, nothing eventful occurred. However, at- Security tapes and eyewitnesses indicate that D-778 appeared to make an attempt at attacking agent Warrant Supervision. He in turn overcame the subject with a knife, causing an inch-deep gash in D-778's left shoulder, precisely at the point where the tuxedo's seam was ripped. Test halted. Subject later terminated. Subject, D-690, a 26-year-old white male. Article, 2004 Boston Red Sox baseball cap. Imperfections, missing size adjuster and back of cap. Logo in front, partially removed. Test results. Placed in a sealed room with the subject was a table on which were a loaded Jericho baby eagle 9mm handgun, a grill lighter, and a hatchet. D-690 chose to wear the cap backward for the test. Potential effects of this decision on the outcome of the test are unknown. Subject expressed reluctance to touch any of the objects on the table for several hours. Food and water were provided as necessary. After four hours of general inactivity, subject picked up the handgun and examined it. While holding it at roughly eye level, the weapon discharged into D-690's forehead, where the size adjustment band would have been. The round exited the subject near the part of the hat with the missing part of the logo. Subjects, D-736, a 22-year-old white male. D-771, a 23-year-old white male. Article, Burgundy striped sweater vest dating from 1973. Imperfections, articles seem to have been partially eaten by moths, several large holes in the front of the sweater. Test results, D-736 was asked by researching staff to wear the sweater vest, which he did under duress. D-771 was given a loaded handgun out of sight of the other test participant and instructed to, on a given signal, fire all six shots in the direction of D-736. After doing so, it was noted that every shot fired passed through one of the holes in the sweater vest, leaving the clothing intact and killing D-736. Firearm retrieved, surviving subject transported back to quarters. Subject, D-771, a 23-year-old white male. Article, sweater vest from above trial. Imperfections, same as mentioned. Test results, D-771 was this time placed in an empty room, dimensions 15 meters by 15 meters by 15 meters. Only objects in the enclosure were lights overhead. Subject initially complained of boredom, then lay on his back and went to sleep. After two hours and 14 minutes, two of the fluorescent light bulbs in the ceiling suddenly dislodged and fell. Both landed squarely on holes in the sweater, shattering upon impact. One of the tubes broke into jagged pieces that impaled D-771 in several areas, but only again through gaps already present in the sweater vest. Subjects vitals persisted for another six minutes, then ceased. Further testing locations will be selected to minimize possible damage to the surrounding area. Subject, Dr. Warrant, unplanned experiment. An unidentified individual left an article from SCP-025 on Dr. Warrant's desk that looked similar to an item of his own clothing. Any information about this incident and or the perpetrator of same should be reported immediately to senior staff. Article, lightweight scarf, dyed a number of colors, imperfections. Heavily pulled seam caused scarf to be considerably shorter and tighter in the middle. Test results, according to his itinerary, Dr. Warrant, wearing the item from SCP-025, was en route to the enclosure of SCP-025 for routine testing. However, he diverged from his intended path and began in a direction towards an entirely separate wing of the facility. Subject then entered the enclosure of SCP-173 without gathering accompaniment or following safety protocols, and, upon hearing the door closing, blinked. Cause of death listed as strangulation, resulting from a crushed windpipe. Subject, D-802, a 30-year-old Hispanic female. Article, 1980s flash dance style white shirt. Imperfections, right shoulder removed. Left sleeve completely cut off. Entire bottom hem shredded. Test results, data expunged. All present were presumed infected, then quarantined and data expunged. All further tests involving 1980s era fashion have been postponed indefinitely, due to the expenditures and safety hazards presented by the aforementioned experiment. Full cleanup estimated to take an additional weeks. Further testing authorized. Results now awaiting declassification. Item number, SCP-10. Object class, safe. Special containment procedures. The objects comprising SCP-10 are to be kept in numbered locked boxes in a high security facility. They are not to be worn except by test subjects. SCP-10 are only to be removed from storage for testing. Description, SCP-10 consists of a series of six apparently identical cast iron collars with numbered metal tags and one remote control. The control is SCP-10-1. The collars are SCP-10-2 through 10-7. The collars contain intricate electronic components and are powered by small, 5-millimeter in diameter, 2-millimeter thick 100 volt batteries. These batteries are rechargeable. The remote is a heavy black box resembling an old style handheld radio transmitter receiver with a primitive blue and white cathode ray screen and a series of more than 100 unlabeled buttons as well as a frequency tuner. Through trial and error, the frequencies of all six currently found collars have been discovered. A label in Russian is stamped into the metal along with a logo consisting of workers building a pyramid. No official Russian corporation or government agency uses this logo or matches the words stamped into the metal. Placing the collar around the neck of a person and securing it allows one to control their every movement with the remote. It is also capable of producing an adrenal response and activating or deactivating the sympathetic nervous system. The most abnormal feature of the collars is the effect they have on the body morphology. They allow the user of the remote to reconfigure the shape of the victim to an extent that is apparently only limited by the knowledge of the programming language of the remote. Addendum 10-1, History. SCP-10 was discovered in the basement of a lone man in the Midwestern United States after a local disappearance was connected to him. When the police raided the man's house, they found SCP-10 as well as several dead bodies. One of the bodies was identified to be the man. The others were several other missing persons. Cause of death seemed to be mass suicide. However, there were signs of significant struggle first. Addendum 10-2, Disassemble Experiment. Test 1, SCP-10-2 taken apart piecewise. The parts labeled and several photographs taken then reassembled. Result. After reassembly, SCP-10-2 continues to function. Test 2, SCP-10-8 constructed identically to SCP-10-2, but with the closest approximations available to the unreplicable components. Result. SCP-10-8 fails to function. Test 3, Unreplicable components from SCP-10-2 placed into proper locations on SCP-10-8. Result. SCP-10-2 ceases functioning with removal of components. SCP-10-8 begins functioning. Test 4, Components returned to SCP-10-2. Replicable components in SCP-10-2 replaced randomly with replicas. Result. SCP-10-2 begins functioning with return of components. Changing replicable components for replicas does not significantly reduce functionality. Replacement of a damaged transistor decreased time from transmission to effect of SCP-10-2, response to commands entered in the remote by 12%. Addendum 10-3, SCP-10 has been demonstrated to work more effectively in creating unskilled labor than for any other task. The logo is apt. Dr. W... Item number. SCP-035, Object Class, Keter. Special Containment Procedures. SCP-035 is to be kept within a hermetically sealed glass case, no fewer than 10 centimeters, four inches thick. This case is to be contained within a steel, iron and lead-shielded room at all times. Doors are to be triple locked at all times, with the exception of allowing personnel in or out. No fewer than two armed guards are to be posted at any time. Guards must remain outside at all times, and are not allowed within the containment room under any circumstances. A trained psychologist is to remain on-site at all times. Research personnel are not to touch SCP-035 at any time. SCP-035 must be moved to a new sealed case every two weeks. The previous case must be disposed of via SCP-101, as it shows no adverse reactions to SCP-035's corruption. Anyone who comes into contact with SCP-035 when it is in possession of a host is to be given an immediate psychological evaluation. Description SCP-035 appears to be a white porcelain comedy mask, although, at times, it will change to tragedy. In these events, all existing visual records, such as photographs, video footage, even illustrations of SCP-035, automatically change to reflect its new appearance. A highly corrosive and degenerative liquid constantly seeps from the eye and mouth holes of SCP-035. Anything coming into contact with this substance slowly decays over a period of time, depending on the material, until it is decayed completely into a pool of the original contaminant. Glass seems to react the slowest to the effects of the item, hence the construction choice of its immediate container. Living organisms that come into contact with the substance react much the same way, with no chance of recovery. Origin of the liquid is unknown. Liquid is only visible from the front and does not emerge or is even visible from the other side. Subjects within 1.5 to 2 meters, 5 or 6 feet of SCP-035 or in visual contact with it, experience a strong urge to put it on. When SCP-035 is placed on the face of an individual, an alternate brainwave pattern from SCP-035 overlaps that of the original host, effectively snuffing it out and causing brain death to the subject. Subject then claims to be the consciousness contained within SCP-035. The bodies of possessed subjects decay at a highly accelerated rate, eventually becoming little more than mummified corpses. Nevertheless, SCP-035 has demonstrated the ability to remain in cognitive control of a body, experiencing severe structural damage, even if the subject's body literally decays to the point where motion is not mechanically possible. No effect is found to be had when placed on the face of an animal. Conversations with SCP-035 have proven to be informative. Researchers have learned various details about other SCP objects and history in general, as SCP-035 claims to have been at many momentous events. SCP-035 displays a highly intelligent and charismatic personality, being both amiable and flattering to all those who speak with it. SCP-035 has scored in the 99th percentile on all intelligence and aptitude tests administered to it and appears to have a photographic memory. However, psychological analysis has discovered SCP-035 to possess a highly manipulative nature, capable of forcing sudden and profound changes to interviewer's psychological state. SCP-035 has proven to be highly sadistic, prompting some to commit suicide and transforming others into near-mindless servants with linguistic persuasion alone. SCP-035 has stated that it has intimate knowledge of the workings of the human mind and implied that it could change anyone's views if given enough time. Additional Notes SCP-035 was found in a sealed crypt in an abandoned house in Venice in 18- Addendum 035-01 SCP-035 has been found to be able to possess anything that has a humanoid shape, including mannequins, corpses, and statues. SCP-035 has been able to motivate all into movement, removing the need to expose live subjects to SCP-035. Still, anything it possesses inevitably decays into motionlessness. Addendum 035-02 SCP-035 has facilitated an escape attempt, convincing several of the research staff to aid it in its bid for freedom. Insurrection failed. All staff that have been in contact with SCP-035 have been terminated, and mandatory psychiatric evaluations have been implemented, for all personnel coming in contact with SCP-035. Addendum 035-03 It has been determined that SCP-035 is capable of telepathy, whether or not it possesses a host, even penetrating to the subconscious of others, and using the knowledge it finds to its advantage. Extreme caution is advised when choosing subjects to converse with SCP-035. Addendum 035-04 SCP-035 has expressed an interest in other SCPs, most notably SCP-4715 and SCP-682. Dr. R. R. has expressed worry that should SCP-035 bond with either, their regenerative qualities would negate its corruption and give it a permanent host. Addendum 035-05 After several more escape attempts, and after reviewing SCP-035's incident record, High Command has ordered that it be permanently sealed within the facility, and prohibited from being allowed any more hosts. Several personnel have protested against this, with some even erupting into violence. As a direct result, all personnel that have come into contact with SCP-035 have been terminated. Going forward, all personnel that deal with SCP-035 are to be rotated frequently, and contact is to be limited even to its dormant state to as little as possible. Addendum 035-06 Personnel within 10 meters of SCP-035 have recently reported feeling unease, stating that they can hear an intelligible whispering. Several others have suffered from severe migraines. Object has been monitored, but there is no change in its dormant behavior, and no sounds have been recorded. The motion to reinstate SCP-035's host privileges has been brought up once more, if only on a temporary basis, to discover these new changes in the object's behavior. Denied. Addendum 035-07 The walls of SCP-035's containment cell have suddenly begun secreting a black substance. Tests on the substance have revealed it to be human blood, although highly contaminated with several foreign and unknown agents. Substance is corrosive, having a pH balance of 4.5, and prolonged exposure to the walls has proven to be detrimental to their structural integrity. More notably, it seems to be forming patterns on the walls. Several segments seem to be paragraphs in various languages, including Italian, Latin, Greek, and Sanskrit. Translation is pending. Other segments appear to be diagrams depicting ritualistic sacrifice and mutilation, often for the arcane benefit of the person committing them. Several staff members have been shocked to note that all of the sacrifices bear an uncanny resemblance to various personnel and their loved ones, often in conflicting positions. Researchers while in the room examining these newly formed patterns have complained of hearing loud whispering and high-pitched, unnerving laughter at irregular intervals. Personnel in the section working daily near and around SCP-035's containment unit have suffered catastrophic morale damage, with an all-time high in suicide rates and staff in that area, whether or not they have ever had contact with SCP-035. The only change in SCP-035's dormant behavior is regarding its contained glass case. Degradation of the case has increased to a high degree, enough so that the glass will occasionally shatter, causing a wide dispersal of SCP-035's contaminant. This occurs quite often at the most inopportune times, so far resulting in six casualties and three fatalities of both research and cleanup staff. Addendum 035-08 In light of the mass suicide and homicide of the members of the research team tasked with translating the passages garnered from SCP-035's containment cell, the morale damage in the area, and general loss of staff dealing with SCP-035 to either death or insanity, it has been decided to coat the inner and outer walls of its containment cell with SCP-148, which has proved well in the containment of SCP-132, in order to hopefully block out the high levels of negativity being emitted by SCP-035. Addendum 035-09 The use of SCP-148 has worked well, causing morale and suicide rates to return to near pre-SCP-035 rates. However, the material appears to facilitate the negativity within the cell, causing a veritable greenhouse effect inside. Personnel inside the cell have stated that they feel a heavy sense of dread, fear, anger, and general depression, as well as hearing constant, nearly inaudible whispering upon immediate entry. A prolonged stay causes severe migraines, suicidal tendencies, heavy hemorrhaging of blood vessels around the eyes and inside the mouth and nose, general hostility to others, and further whispering to increase to almost deafening volumes, intersected by a constant mocking laughter. Exposure of more than three hours inevitably results in the subject falling into a deep psychosis and attempting to harm either themselves or others. Most spoke in Latin or Greek despite the fact that several did not previously know how to speak said languages beforehand. The presence of blood in both word and diagram formations has increased disproportionately, the walls becoming cluttered, and the formations beginning to overlap each other. The substance has proven to be both difficult to clean and even more corrosive than was originally recorded, with a pH of roughly 2.4. General estimation gives the current walls a life of two months before they will need replacement. It is becoming gradually more and more difficult to contain SCP-035 and the debate to reinstate its host privileges has once again come up, denied. Addendum 035-10, the walls, ceiling, and floor of SCP-035's containment cell have now been completely saturated in blood. All personnel entering and guarding the area must wear full hazmat protection suits. Constant cleaning efforts are being instated. Addendum 035-11, the magnitude, intensity, and recurrence of the phenomena that occur within SCP-035's containment cell have increased to an alarming degree. The cell door has been known to become locked of its own accord while personnel are inside and unable to be opened for a period of time. Appendages form out of the larger puddles of blood and often attempt to grab or harm personnel near them. Blurry apparitions have started appearing to staff. Electronic devices no longer work inside the cell and the light cannot be turned on, though there is no physical reason why it does not work, forcing those entering to use non-electric-based light sources. Cleaning measures are having no discernible effect on the cell and the walls are degrading at a very high rate, forcing them to be replaced within a week at best, although the blood makes it nearly impossible to properly achieve this. SCP-035 may have to be moved to a new cell entirely, with the old ones sealed off and disengaged from the rest of the facility. Item number, SCP-154. Object Class, Euclid. Special Containment Procedures. SCP-154 is to be kept within Weapon Locker 8, an armed research Site 47. Personnel wishing to research or use item must submit the required request forms. Anyone attempting to remove the item without clearance or from outside the facility is to be terminated on site. Description. SCP-154 is a pair of simple bronze bracelets, completely circular and large enough to comfortably hang off the arm of most people. Spectrograph analysis has proven that the item is composed entirely of copper, 85%, tin, 11%, arsenic, 3%, and traces of other slight impurities, less than 1%. When both bracelets are worn on the same arm, and the wearer concentrates on them with arms extended in a depiction of a traditional, knocked bowstring pose, achieved by having the arm with the bracelets completely extended in front of one's self, with the opposing arm extended up to the elbow of the fully extended arm. A large, indistinct, incorporeal bow will form in the extended hand, and both bracelets will glow slightly. From that point onwards, SCP-154 can be treated as a bow until the pose or concentration is broken, which results in the bracelets reverting to normal. There is no actual bowstring, but completing the motion of pulling it achieves the same effect. When the bowstring is pulled and released, the bones of the arm will be forcibly ejected from the extended limb, traveling in a straight path at speeds recorded over 300 meters per second. The missing bones and resulting damage to the arm are quickly regenerated, and the weapon is capable of being fired again within minutes. Tests using subjects possessing multiple arms and hands, such as SCP-1884-B, have demonstrated the ability to fire SCP-154 several times, with the bones of different arms being used with each successive firing. The regeneration implemented by the item is limited, only affecting the damage inflicted by the weapon itself. This regeneration seems to be in automatic action, and will continue in almost all situations. Both firing the weapon and the resulting regeneration are understandably painful, and participants which have used the item once are generally disinclined to repeat usage. However, there have been found to be some occasional abnormalities regarding the regeneration. Most often this manifests simply as minor mutations of the original subject, such as changes in size, pigmentation, and structure of the original organelles. These are an uncommon occurrence, capable of happening during any use of the weapon, though generally tend to occur during repeat usage. There are more drastic abnormalities, though these are much rarer, and coincide with highly frequent use. These mutations can range from anything such as the growth of extra joints and digits in the affected arm, to a complete change of the chemical or physical structure of the limb. One test subject unknowingly had the bone matter within his arm converted into an unstable explosive compound, only discovering the fact when it detonated, causing two fatalities and three casualties. Another had the entire bone and musculature structure morphed into fully functional serpentine physiology.