Introduction
The world is not what you perceive. The reality you know is but a carefully woven illusion, a thin veil concealing the terrifying truths lurking deep within the cosmos. When the laws of physics are freely violated, when reason and logic crumble before the unspeakable, when whispered voices become the prelude to annihilation, when shadows devour light, when thoughts themselves can kill—this is what we call the anomalous.
Yet there exists a vast and secretive organization, standing as an invisible bulwark between human civilization and endless horrors. It seals away the terror and wonders that distort reality into locked containment. Its name: The SCP Foundation. Its sole mission, enshrined in its highest creed: Secure, Contain, Protect.This is the story of an unseen war, the final defense of human civilization.
But when the cost of "protection" becomes unbearable, when the alarms of containment breach wail through the sites, and when loyalty and betrayal intertwine within the Foundation itself… are we safeguarding the world, or merely delaying the inevitable end?
The Foundation has established secret sites and areas across the globe, containing countless anomalous entities ranging from harmless curiosities to apocalyptic threats. These anomalies are classified into tiers, from the easily managed Safe class to the elusive and extremely dangerous Keter class. Each one tests the Foundation's capability and resolve, where the slightest misstep could unleash unimaginable catastrophe.
With a strict organizational structure, layered security clearances, and specialized personnel—from the shadowy ruling O5 Council, to researchers, security operatives, and elite Mobile Task Forces (MTFs) who respond to the most dangerous situations—the Foundation operates under absolute secrecy. Any leak could trigger global panic or the collapse of reality itself.
However, the Foundation is not the sole actor in this hidden world. Other factions exist: some seek to exploit anomalies for chaos and rebellion; some aim to eradicate them entirely; others operate with unclear motives. These groups—whether hostile, cooperative, or neutral—form a complex web of power struggles surrounding the anomalous.
The Foundation must navigate this treacherous landscape, containing anomalies while fending off threats from these factions, all while ensuring the human world remains blissfully unaware.
This is a story of the unknown, of fear, of sacrifice, and of humanity's relentless fight to maintain reason in the face of overwhelming darkness. Behind every containment protocol lies a deadly struggle; behind every expedition, the potential to uncover the deepest cosmic secrets.Welcome to the world of the SCP Foundation—a world that will shatter everything you thought you knew.
( Chapter 1: Anomalous Alert )
April 2, 2000.
"Daddy, look! I drew you!"
The innocent voice rang out with pure excitement, like the cleanest note in the sunlight. David Shaw felt a fleeting warmth rise in his chest, his fingertips still rough from the crayon's waxy texture. The childlike, wobbly but lovingly crafted portrait of "Daddy" lay spread across the carpet.
He opened his mouth to praise it, but a cold, piercing sound abruptly sliced through the air—a sound that had no place in this sunlit living room.
It wasn't an ordinary phone call.
It was the Foundation's encrypted line. A summons. A command to freeze all personal life in an instant.
David froze mid-crouch. He felt the small hand clutching his pant leg let go. The light in his daughter's bright, expectant eyes dimmed suddenly, like a candle snuffed out by a violent gust. The silence of disappointment weighed heavily on his heart.
The third time this month.
"Daddy… you promised…" The girl's voice dropped, trembling with hurt.
The words caught in his throat like a shard of ice."I'll look at it when I get back," David forced the dry words out. "This time, I promise."
He nearly fled, grabbing his jacket off the chair and rushing out the door. Behind him, the drawing and yet another broken promise remained like invisible needles piercing his back.
Site-81 briefing room.
The air was drained of warmth, carrying the cold, sterile scent of disinfectant and metal. The dull gray-white walls reflected the pale glow of the projector's light across the metallic table. A low hum from the electronics filled the room, a constant backdrop like some eternal presence.
Thomas Graves (Tiger), the team's tactical lead, sat meticulously polishing his combat knife, his expression focused as if performing a ritual. Irene Foster (Egret), medical and bio-analysis specialist, rapidly swiped through dissection diagrams and data streams on her tablet. Zach Morris (Hawkeye), the tech expert, was fine-tuning an array of tangled cables and complex devices.
The core members of MTF Beta-7, "Mad Hatters", were ready.
David Shaw (Falcon), team leader, sat at the head of the table, locking away any warmth or softness he'd brought from home. Now he was Falcon, the Foundation's blade, ready to strike at the darkness.
"Pinewood Town."The intelligence officer's voice was taut as steel, devoid of emotion. He pointed at the satellite map of a remote mountain town."Seventeen residents have gone missing over the past three weeks. The latest, a local forest ranger, John Carter, vanished two days ago. This was his last confirmed location."
The screen switched to a blurry field photo: a dried, dark brown bloodstain in the mud and a savage claw mark gouged deep into the earth. No known animal could have left it. The tear marks were razor-sharp and ominously deep.
David's pupils narrowed. He recognized the pattern.
The officer continued, pulling up the database comparison. The photo overlaid with a data model labeled by number.
"Match rate: 98.7%," the voice fell like cold stone into still water."Target confirmed: SCP-939."
"With Many Voices."
The codename echoed wordlessly. All traces of human emotion drained from the faces of the team, replaced by absolute calm—the solemn focus reserved for confronting a Keter-class entity.
The screen displayed the SCP file:
Item #: SCP-939Object Class: KeterSpecial Containment Procedures: (details omitted, but filled with an overwhelming sense of danger and strict control protocols)Description: SCP-939 is a pack-hunting, endothermic predator. Appearance: eyeless, quadrupedal, with semi-translucent red skin. Primary anomaly: ability to mimic the voices of prior victims to lure prey; releases a potent Class C amnestic compound (AMN-C227)...
Every word hit like a lead weight.Keter meant nearly impossible containment and existential threat.Its voice mimicry was a psychological weapon with devastating effect.
"We've developed a new sound recognition and filtering system to counter SCP-939's voice mimicry," Zach finally spoke, eyes gleaming with tech-specialist intensity."Using advanced voiceprint algorithms and reverse spectrum analysis, it can theoretically detect and block SCP-939's fake vocal patterns and distinguish them from real human voices. It should help us locate and avoid being lured."
He projected complex waveforms and algorithm models—jagged lines and numbers dancing across the screen.
"The theoretical success rate is... seventy-eight percent," he added, his enthusiasm dimming slightly."This is its first field test."
78%. Good in a lab. On the field, against a cunning predator like SCP-939, the remaining 22% could mean life or death.
"Preliminary autopsy reports of two recovered bodies."Irene stepped in, her voice calm and sharp as a scalpel."Both suffered catastrophic bite trauma to the skull or neck. The wound patterns match SCP-939's bite signature with high precision. Fracture analysis shows instantaneous bite forces exceeding 35 megapascals."
She paused, then added coldly:"Enough to snap standard steel rebar."
Thomas remained silent, sliding his cleaned knife back into its sheath. He began handing out equipment:
Level C gas-tight isolation suits to block AMN-C227
High-sensitivity acoustic locators linked to Zach's central system
Infrared and low-light tactical goggles
Specialized tranquilizer darts and a backup Gauss rifle
A foldable high-strength alloy emergency containment cage
All fine-tuned through countless simulations for dealing with "With Many Voices."
As the meeting concluded, the normally silent Site-81 director finally spoke from the shadows—a middle-aged man with an iron tone:"One final and most critical note."His gaze swept across the team like a physical force."Our data analysis suggests this instance of SCP-939 may not be a standard specimen."
"Its mimicry seems more precise… and it may demonstrate unanticipated evasive intelligence. We cannot rule out the possibility of a mutation."
"Treat it as a completely unknown Keter-level threat," he ordered."Beta-7, your objectives: locate, assess, and if possible, capture it alive. If risk exceeds threshold, you are authorized to terminate on sight."
"Remember," his eyes locked onto David,"The Foundation's mission: Secure. Contain. Protect. At any cost."
The helicopter's rotor thundered against the cold air. Through the window, dark green mountain ridges undulated beneath thin mist. The cabin reeked of aviation fuel and metal. Each jolt reminded the team they were flying into danger.
David closed his eyes. The memory of a mission three years earlier clawed its way back. Same forest. Same target.Two good men lost—Carter and Lee.Carter's final scream still haunted him, followed by SCP-939 mimicking Carter's voice, calling Lee's name… luring him into the shadows.
That sound had become David's personal curse.
His hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm, pulling him out of the nightmare.
Not this time.Beta-7 would return whole.
The helicopter didn't land directly in Pinewood, instead hovering down into a remote clearing miles from town. As the engines shut off, the deafening roar vanished into the oppressive silence of the forest. Damp pine needles, decaying leaves, and mud filled the air with an earthy, faintly metallic odor.
A short, wiry middle-aged man in a faded plaid shirt cautiously peeked from the tree line, then jogged toward them, glancing nervously around as if something unseen was watching.
"Sir, thank God you're here!" he whispered in rapid-fire panic."We did as you instructed—we told the townsfolk it's a wild animal attack and warned them to stay inside. But people are terrified. The town's nearly empty! That… thing… it's still out there!"
David stared past him toward the distant outline of Pinewood Town.A few dim streetlights cast weak halos over deserted streets.Windows were shuttered tight. Curtains drawn. The entire town held its breath in collective fear.
This wasn't just fear of a wild animal. They were hiding something—or terrified of something much worse.
The team ran final equipment checks. David verified Zach's signal receiver.
"Helicopter will remain in aerial standby, orbiting above."David spoke into his comms.
"Copy that, Falcon. Good hunting," the pilot replied.
The helicopter lifted again, stirring up dirt and leaves before disappearing into the night sky.
Silence.Only the faint rustle of wind through pine branches and the creak of tactical gear remained. The darkness bled in like ink, devouring their vision.
Then David's handheld anomaly and acoustic detector flashed.A faint red dot blinked on the edge of the screen.
Anomaly detected.
His heart sank. The signal strength, movement speed, and sound reflection matched perfectly with SCP-939's database profile.
The red dot was moving fast.
It was headed straight for the faintly lit, silent streets of Pinewood Town.
It had arrived.Or worse—it had never left.
The hunt had begun.