Sticky fingers (noun): a tendency to steal things
- Initial Report
- Suspect Description / Capabilities
- Evidence / Bureau Record
Electronic copy below as per Federal Records Act
UIU File 2025-160: Codename "Sticky Fingers"
Summary: The suspect is capable of manipulating localized reality to varying degrees, utilizing this ability exclusively to carry out acts of petty thievery and pickpocket objects that possess monetary value.
Name: Robin █████
Irregularity Cross-reference: Fugitive, Human, New York, Reality Manipulation, Theft
Physical Description: An eighteen-year-old Caucasian male.
Sex
Height
Weight / Build
Race
Hair
Eyes
Identifying Attributes
Male
5'8"
120lbs, malnourished
White
Unkempt, dark brown
Green
Unkempt appearance, tattered clothing, a deep laceration to the right-hand commissure (corner) of his mouth, may be suffering from varying injuries consistent with those sustained in cases of domestic abuse
Capabilities: The suspect is capable of manipulating localized reality to varying degrees, utilizing this ability exclusively to carry out acts of petty thievery, pickpocket civilians, or otherwise bring objects into his possession. It is currently unknown whether this ability is congenital or not, or if the suspect is capable of utilizing his ability toward any means outside of the aforementioned pattern of behavior.
Purpose / Motive: The suspect appears to utilize his ability for the pursuit of monetary gain by directly stealing physical currency from his chosen marks or by stealing objects that possess monetary value such as cellphones, jewelry, and watches.
Modus Operandi: The suspect utilizes his ability to manipulate localized reality in a variety of methods in order to steal from his chosen marks. Of what has been observed by the agents assigned to this case, these methods may include (but are not limited to)…
- Moving an object from his mark’s person into his possession
- Moving an object from one of his mark’s pockets into the other for ease of access
- Moving an object from his mark’s pocket onto his own person
- Causing his mark to move (or bump) into him for ease of access
Behavior: While the suspect is in the act of utilizing his ability to commit an act of thievery, he appears calm, methodical, displaying an almost monotonous boredom at the crime that he is committing. However, when the suspect is observed outside of his usual pattern of criminal activity, he appears nervous, paranoid, and hyper-aware of his own actions. This erratic and puzzling dichotomy in the suspect’s behavior is worrying. The suspect is to be considered dangerous and it is urged that assigned agents exercise extreme caution.
Evidence: At this time, no physical evidence of the crimes committed by the suspect can be provided, as no item(s) stolen by him, physical currency or otherwise, has been recovered by assigned agents. However, progress is being made in the investigation toward locating a particular object of interest that was stolen by the subject. Updates regarding the investigation are to be posted as it continues.
Current Status: At large.
Crimes: Multiple criminal counts of larceny, petty thievery, pickpocketing, and shoplifting. Most recently and severely, however, and completely irregular when compared against the suspect’s observed pattern of behavior, he is heavily suspected of having committed ██████ ██ ███ ██████ ██████.
Sentencing: Indefinite detention.
History of UIU Action: For a more complete history of the UIU’s actions taken against the suspect, please refer to the document “Incident Report 2025-160” located at the bottom of this case file. If the incident report is unavailable and / or not attached to this case file, please utilize the “Request Document” link on the main portal to submit a formal request to gain access to the report (your request may or may not be denied pending apparent probable cause).
Additional Notes: While it is not a top priority of the ongoing investigation into the suspect, as it is currently unclear whether or not she possesses similar (if any) abnormal abilities, any and all information concerning the location of the suspect’s younger sister, ████ █████, or otherwise should be reported directly to one’s immediate superior to be passed along to proper authorities.
BY ORDER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL
The following file requires Clearance Level 2, Restricted (RS). Unauthorized access is strictly forbidden.
SCP-8944
Item#: 8944
Level2
Containment Class:
euclid
Secondary Class:
none
Disruption Class:
vlam
Risk Class:
caution
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8944 is to remain within a standard anomalous humanoid containment chamber at Site-78. The containment chamber is equipped with multiple Scranton Reality Anchors to prevent SCP-8944 from using its anomalous abilities outside of scheduled testing. It is during periods of scheduled testing that SCP-8944 will be given opportunities to use its anomalous abilities to heal any damage sustained due to its secondary anomalous reaction. Notably, no amount nor degree of reality stabilizing apparatuses or other para-technology utilized by the Foundation appear to have an effect on the secondary anomalous reaction. Currently, the only known method of sating the secondary anomalous reaction, thus healing any / all damage sustained from it, is through the utilization of SCP-8944’s anomalous abilities in an act of thievery.
SCP-8944’s periods of scheduled testing are to take place within one of Site-78’s myriad exclusion chambers, small pockets of space strategically designed to fall outside of the influence of any reality stabilizing apparatuses utilized in the containment of Type Green entities and objects within the site. Due to the nature and specific locations of said exclusion chambers, the use of an anomaly’s abilities (in this case, those of an ontokinetic variety) is only possible within each chamber, as exiting its designated exclusion area would place the anomaly within the zone of influence of the reality stabilizing apparatuses and para-technology utilized at Site-78.
Due to the nature of SCP-8944’s scheduled testing involving the utilization of its anomalous abilities to perform various acts of thievery, its person is to be searched by a member of Foundation personnel before it is allowed to reenter its containment chamber at the conclusion of every test.
Description: SCP-8944 is an eighteen-year-old Caucasian male of European descent, originally from Harlem, New York City, prior to its transfer to Site-78. It is a Class-I Type Green humanoid possessing reality bending abilities which it utilizes exclusively to pickpocket or engage in other forms of thievery. It appears unable to utilize its ontokinetic abilities or manipulate baseline reality to any degree when it is not actively doing so with the intention of bringing something into its possession. Due to a secondary anomalous reaction of its primary ontokinetic abilities, the true extent of its potency as a Type Green is currently unknown.
SCP-8944’s secondary anomalous reaction will become active following a specific period of time in which it does not utilize its abilities. All data collected appears to indicate that the secondary anomalous reaction operates on a seven day timeline. Should SCP-8944 neglect to utilize its abilities for two days, it will begin to sustain physical damage to its body. The damage will continue to manifest with an exponential severity in accordance with the condition that SCP-8944’s abilities go without use.
While it cannot be tested and subsequently proven, all data collected supports the conclusion that following seven days without SCP-8944 utilizing its abilities, it would expire from the damage sustained due to its secondary anomalous reaction. Regardless of the quantity and severity of damage that SCP-8944 has sustained, the only known method of healing said damage is through the usage of its ontokinetic abilities in an act of thievery. However, this method exclusively heals the damage sustained by SCP-8944 due to its secondary anomalous reaction. It will not heal damage sustained from a third party or outside source.
The damage sustained by SCP-8944 following prolonged neglect of its ontokinetic abilities manifests as varying injuries consistent with those seen in cases of domestic / physical abuse.
Addendum - 8944.1: Discovery
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SCP-8944 was discovered on November 17th, 2025, outside of a dive bar in Harlem, New York City, following an attempt to unknowingly pickpocket an agent of MTF Pi-1 (“City Slickers”) while she was off duty. The agent (code-named “Wichita”) was able to successfully place SCP-8944 under arrest due to her confidential position within the area’s local law enforcement. Later that night, SCP-8944 was transferred to the nearest Foundation containment facility following an incident in which it exposed its anomalous nature in an attempt to steal the key to its handcuffs from Agent Wichita’s person. When SCP-8944 was discovered by Agent Wichita, it had sustained severe damage, nearing the limit of its secondary anomalous reaction.
Following SCP-8944’s initial containment and the discovery that its anomalous abilities were ontokinetic in nature, it was immediately transferred to Site-78 in the town of Enth Degree, Oregon, where Foundation personnel specialize in the containment and study of Type Green entities and objects. Agent Wichita was transferred alongside SCP-8944 at the request of assigned project lead and Senior Researcher Simon Andvari, who believed that her confidential position within Harlem’s local law enforcement would be indispensable when researching the anomaly’s background and aiding in its containment. The masquerade of a death in the family was chosen by Agent Wichita to explain her leave of absence from the Harlem Police Department.
Addendum - 8944.2: Initial Interview
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Interviewed: SCP-8944
Interviewer: Senior Researcher Simon Andvari (with Agent Wichita present)
Date: 11 / 19 / 2025
Foreword: With SCP-8944 in containment, the primary objective of this interview was to inquire about the location of its currently missing sibling and uncover whether or not she possessed similar (if any) ontokinetic abilities.
<BEGIN LOG>
SCP-8944 sits across from Andvari, a metal table between them. Wichita stands behind Andvari, her back agains a wall, and her arms crossed. Andvari clears his throat.
Andvari: …statement begins. Please state your name for the record.
SCP-8944 does not respond.
Andvari: State your name for the record, please.
SCP-8944 does not respond. Andvari clicks his tongue.
Andvari: …the anomaly’s documentation should reflect an unwillingness to comply with even the most standard of Foundation procedures. The anomaly’s name is Robin, last name pending, designation “SCP-8944.”
SCP-8944 does not respond. Andvari stares over the rim of his glasses.
Andvari: Moving along. How long have you been living on the streets of Harlem?
SCP-8944 does not respond.
Andvari: When did your… penchant for thievery first develop?
SCP-8944 does not respond. Andvari sighs.
Andvari: Do you know the whereabouts of your younger sister?
SCP-8944 immediately straightens in its chair, its eyes widening.
Andvari: Do I have your attention now?
When SCP-8944 speaks, the molars on the right-hand side of its mouth become visible through the deep laceration to the corner of its mouth.
SCP-8944: …do you think I’m an idiot? I’m not saying a word until my lawyer gets here which, by the way, you have to provide me with.
Andvari: You just said around 25 words without an attorney present.
SCP-8944 opens its mouth, pauses for a moment, then closes it.
Andvari: You won’t be provided with any legal representation.
SCP-8944 leans forward, placing two balled fists on the table in front of it.
SCP-8944: Hey, I know my rights—
Andvari interrupts.
Andvari: Then you must know that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. And, again, I thought we weren’t talking without an attorney present?
SCP-8944 does not respond. It slowly leans back in its chair and crosses its arms. Behind Andvari, Wichita smiles.
Andvari: …you’re not being provided with legal representation because you’re not going to prison.
SCP-8944: …no?
Andvari: No. However, you’re not exactly walking free, either.
SCP-8944’s voice softens.
SCP-8944: …then what do you want from me?
Andvari leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in front of him.
Andvari: Why do you think that you’re here, 8944?
SCP-8944 does not respond. Andvari starts to speak, then SCP-8944 starts in kind.
SCP-8944: …me? I don’t know—
Andvari quickly interjects.
Andvari: You do. You do know.
SCP-8944’s gaze flicks toward Wichita before returning to Andvari.
SCP-8944: Look, I… I didn’t know what I was doing, alright? It was a mistake, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.
Andvari does not respond. Beneath the table, one of SCP-8944’s legs begins to bounce.
SCP-8944: Come on, man. Can’t I, like, get off with a warning or something? I’m really sorry, I made a mistake!
Andvari: Why are you here, 8944?
SCP-8944: Stop calling me that.
Andvari: Why are you here?
SCP-8944 tilts its head to one side, genuine confusion visible on its face. It nods toward Wichita.
SCP-8944: …because I tried to steal something from her?
Andvari: …that’s not the answer I’m looking for.
SCP-8944 chokes out a laugh.
SCP-8944: I don’t know what the fuck you’re looking for, man! Are you gonna let me go or not?
Andvari: You think we don’t know what you are? What you’re capable of?
SCP-8944: …what?
Andvari: Why are you here? Come on, give me an ounce of honesty.
SCP-8944: I already told you, man! I tried to rob a cop—
It throws a hand in Wichita’s direction.
SCP-8944: —and she caught me! What more do you want from me?!
Andvari shakes his head.
Andvari: Try again.
SCP-8944 explodes, laughing wildly, throwing its hands into the air.
SCP-8944: I’m here because I’m a thief, isn’t that right?! A dirty, no-good thief!
Andvari: How?
SCP-8944 rolls its eyes.
SCP-8944: How, what?!
Andvari: How do you steal things?
SCP-8944 drops its elbows onto the table in front of it and buries its head into its hands, dragging its hands down its face.
SCP-8944: I—I—I don’t know how! I just do!
It turns its hands palms up and stares at them.
SCP-8944: I walk past someone and… and I just take from them, I don’t know! I think about having what belongs to them, and my hand twitches, and then their wallet is in my pocket or their watch is in my hand… is that what you want to hear?!
Andvari is silent for a moment before responding.
Andvari: …can your sister do the things that you can do, 8944?
SCP-8944 chokes out a humorless laugh.
SCP-8944: This is insane… this is fucking insane…
SCP-8944’s tongue darts out of its mouth to lick the wound.
Andvari: Where is your sister? If you tell us, we can bring her here. We can help you both, if you help us.
SCP-8944 stares forward, its gaze flicking between Andvari and Wichita. Following several seconds of silence, it responds.
SCP-8944: …fuck you.
Andvari sighs, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him.
Andvari: Where is she, 8944? You need to tell me so that we can get to her before someone else does.
SCP-8944 leans back and crosses its arms.
SCP-8944: Go fuck yourself.
Andvari: This is your last chance. I know it’s difficult to see now but we really are here to help you… both of you.
SCP-8944 does not respond. It looks toward Wichita.
SCP-8944: …how did you know that I was looking to rob you? I thought I was being pretty subtle.
Wichita: I’ve dealt with things that can do what you do in the past. I’ve honed my skills, my senses against them like a butcher sharpens a blade on a whetstone.
Wichita shrugs.
Wichita: …I also grew up in the city. I know when someone’s itching to pick my pockets.
SCP-8944: Christ… you’re all fucking crazy…
Andvari sighs, waving a dismissive hand toward the interview room’s door.
Andvari: Take it back to its containment chamber.
Wichita stands up straight and starts toward SCP-8944. It also shoots to its feet and takes a step back.
SCP-8944: Wait a minute, what’re you talking about?! You can’t just keep me here, YOU CAN’T FUCKING—
<END LOG>
Closing Statement: Following SCP-8944’s continued disunity to Foundation questioning, Senior Researcher Andvari enlisted the assistance of Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane. Doctor Sloane was enlisted to conduct psychiatric evaluations of SCP-8944, with the express purpose of these sessions being to persuade it to reveal the location of its sibling as well as ensuring its compliance while testing is ongoing. Additionally, Senior Researcher Andvari tasked Agent Wichita with looking into SCP-8944’s background and Researcher Cassidy Moon with attempting to recover the remainder of the UIU’s report on SCP-8944 from one of the Foundation’s liaisons within the United States government.
Due to the increasing severity of SCP-8944’s secondary anomalous reaction, a list of proposed tests bordering on the esoteric have been postponed until a more in-depth understanding of the definite limits of said reaction can be identified, and pending approval from Senior Researcher Andvari. Several of the aforementioned postponed tests include (but are not limited to) having SCP-8944:
- Steal an object that it has never seen (e.g., a mug from Researcher Moon’s desk)
- Steal an object from an extreme distance (a palm-sized stone from the Appalachian Plateau)
- Steal an object that does not exist (the “One Ring” from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings)
- Steal an abstract concept (the color blue)
Test Log #1
Date: 11 / 21 / 2025
Testing Location: Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ
Foreword: Despite Doctor Sloane remaining in transit to Site-78, SCP-8944’s first test was deemed undemanding enough to conduct without a prior psychiatric evaluation. During the two day containment period preceding its first test, SCP-8944 advanced to the early stages of its secondary anomalous reaction. This stage is primarily characterized by small burns beginning to appear on SCP-8944’s skin. The burns typically manifest on its arms, ranging from its shoulders to its wrists. However, on multiple occasions, the burns have also manifested on its knees and thighs. The marks are consistent with standard burns one would receive from a lit cigarette.
Subject’s Mark: A wallet
Experiment: A member of Site-78’s Class-D personnel (D-8658) was given an empty wallet to place in his pocket and instructed to walk about Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ alongside four additional Class-D personnel, taking extra precautions to ensure that the wallet remained in his possession. SCP-8944 was outfitted with standard Class-D garb and instructed to take the wallet from D-8658 in no more than five minutes. Though initially hesitant to cooperate with Foundation staff, SCP-8944 was eventually convinced to participate when told that its cooperation with testing could reduce its time in Foundation containment. After the five minutes had passed, D-8658 was instructed to return the wallet, finding that it was no longer in his possession. When SCP-8944 was instructed to return the wallet, it returned it to Senior Researcher Andvari.
Conclusion: Upon reviewing surveillance footage of the test, it was noted that SCP-8944 completed its assigned task non-anomalously, approaching D-8658 from behind and taking the wallet from his pocket. This first test served to prove the hypothesis that any damage SCP-8944 sustains from its secondary anomalous reaction will not heal if SCP-8944 commits an act of thievery without the utilization of its ontokinetic abilities.
Additional Comments: Somewhat unrelated to SCP-8944’s first test, Researcher Moon and I are beginning to theorize about the peculiarities regarding how its ontokinetic abilities function. The UIU’s Standard Report Form correctly questions whether or not SCP-8944 is capable of utilizing its abilities to achieve an outcome that does not directly involve an act of thievery and / or an instance of bringing something into its possession. From what we have observed in the UIU’s reports and the data collected during our own burgeoning tests, Researcher Moon and I are inclined to agree that SCP-8944’s ontokinetic abilities function based on intention. Therefore, in order for SCP-8944 to be capable of bending reality, its intention must be to commit an act of thievery or otherwise bring something into its possession. But are SCP-8944’s intentions capable of being blurred, skewed in such a way that it becomes capable of utilizing its abilities in an effort to achieve an end not previously recognized? More testing is required.
Following SCP-8944’s first test, the searching of its person by a member of Foundation personnel prior to reentry into its containment chamber at the conclusion of every test began. A member of Site-78’s in-house security detail was chosen by Senior Researcher Andvari to conduct SCP-8944’s post-test searches, as well as accompany it to and from Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ and Doctor Sloane’s office.
Search of SCP-8944 - following Test #1
Contraband Found: N / A
Re: Background Information (SCP-8944)
To: Senior Researcher Simon Andvari
From: MTF Pi1-01 (Agent Wichita)
Date: 11 / 22 / 2025
Subject: Background Information (SCP-8944)
Senior Researcher Andvari,
My research into SCP-8944’s background at your behest has yielded results. A missing persons report was filed into the archives of my precinct’s department several weeks ago. In the event that you are unaware due to your previous commitments at Site-78, it is a common practice for the UIU, limited resources and all, to disseminate basic and discreet civilian reports in the hopes of probing for information that they’re unable to chase down themselves. This missing persons report is one such example of this. The archived report was filed in search of a young man named “Robin Crowe.” Although no image was provided, the young man’s physical description is a definitive match to that of SCP-8944, and the report lists him as wanted for multiple accounts of petty theft and pickpocketing. In addition to the report, a supplemental file claims that the young man ran from the police after they responded to a potential domestic abuse situation at the Crowe apartment.
However, there was no report on file for any potentially missing Crowe sibling, though I’ll leave the speculating to you and Researcher Moon. After finding the young man’s report, I did some more searching on the surname “Crowe.” This led me to the obituary section of a small, local newspaper that was published a few weeks back, before the young man’s report was filed. Hidden in the obituary section was the death of a middle-aged man named “Corbin Crowe.” The cause of death was listed as an alcohol-induced heart failure. It turns out that Corbin also had an extensive criminal record with our department which included petty theft, a DUI, and domestic violence (though this account did not appear to involve “Robin” nor his sister).
Unfortunately, that was all that I could find. Like I said, what the UIU leaves for civilians to find is merely breadcrumbs, never the full story. Hopefully, Researcher Moon can get more information from one of our liaisons or plants. Until then, let me know if there is anything else that I can do. Thank you,
Agent Wichita.
Addendum - 8944.3: Psychiatric Evaluation, Session #1
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hide Addendum
Interviewed: SCP-8944
Interviewer: Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane
Date: 11 / 24 / 2025
Foreword: As previously stated, the primary objectives of Doctor Sloane’s psychiatric evaluations of SCP-8944 are to persuade it to reveal the location of its sibling, uncover whether or not she possesses similar (if any) ontokinetic abilities, and ensure that SCP-8944 remains compliant while testing is ongoing.
<BEGIN LOG>
Sloane: Test… test… test… 1, 2, 3… alright.
Sloane clears his throat.
Sloane: Robin Crowe should be arriving any minute now for our first psych eval per Simon’s orders.
Sloane reaches between his leg and the arm of his chair, grabbing a small notebook. He opens the notebook and flips through it, scanning over the pages. He reaches for the breast pocket of his coat and retrieves a fountain pen.
Sloane: …the goal today is to establish a good rapport with Robin, try to show him that despite his living conditions in containment and Simon’s testing, there are people here that want to make his stay more comfortable and easy to manage. Also, whether it’s during this session or another, I’d like to probe for a potential case of kleptomania. Drawing from the initial documentation on Robin that Simon provided me with, there’s definitely a possibility that Robin’s necessity to steal things in order to heal himself may have morphed into an addiction to the act of stealing itself… but I won’t force that discussion, certainly not during our first session.
Sloane pauses for a moment.
Sloane: I should break the ice by telling him something about myself… maybe he’ll feel more open to sharing later on if we cultivate a more accepting environment?
Sloane bites down onto the cap of the fountain pen and pulls it off, dropping it into his lap. He jots something down in his notebook.
Sloane: In any case, I’ll avoid diving too deep into the questions that Simon has tasked me with getting answers to. I’m sure that the opportunity will present itself later down the line… you’ve just got to be patient. We should start—
The door to Sloane’s office swings open and the member of Site-78’s in-house security detail charged with conducting SCP-8944’s post-test searches holds it open while SCP-8944 stands in the doorway. A small burn manifested from its secondary anomalous reaction is barely visible on its collar bone. Sloane closes his notebook, slots it next to the arm of his chair, and stands. He caps the fountain pen and clips it into his breast pocket.
Sloane: Right on time! Very punctual, I appreciate that.
Sloane looks toward the security guard accompanying SCP-8944.
Sloane: Thank you for escorting him, Jude. I can take it from here!
Jude nods and gently pushes SCP-8944 through the door before closing it behind it. It has yet to make eye contact with Sloane. Sloane gestures to an empty chair across from his own.
Sloane: Would you like to sit, Robin? You don’t have to, of course! But if you’re going to stand, I’m going to stand, too. So, I’ll leave the fate of my comfortability in your hands.
SCP-8944 begins to look around the room.
SCP-8944: Christ… I thought they were fucking with me when they said I’d have to see a shrink.
Sloane does not respond. SCP-8944 meets his gaze.
SCP-8944: …and if you ask me how that makes me feel, I’m going to lose my mind.
Sloane chuckles.
Sloane: Honestly, I was a bit surprised myself when they brought me in. You see, I typically work as a counselor for pets and their owners. You’d be surprised by just how much emotion can be conveyed through a single bark, meow, or tweet! Although one time, this young lady brought in her ant farm, and that one was a bit of a doozy. I’m 90% sure they were in the process of forming a union before I stepped in.
SCP-8944 raises an eyebrow.
SCP-8944: Are you serious?
Sloane smiles.
Sloane: No. That was a complete lie.
SCP-8944: Are shrinks even allowed to lie?
Sloane: There are… special circumstances in which lies are appropriate, yes. For example, as long as the lie is funny, I think it’s alright.
Sloane gestures to the empty chair across from his own.
Sloane: Take a seat, Robin.
SCP-8944 looks around the room, looks over Sloane, then slowly shuffles around the empty chair and sits down.
SCP-8944: …aren’t you going to call me “SCP-8944” like everyone else in this fucking place?
Sloane shrugs.
Sloane: Well, that depends. Are you going to call me “Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane” like my bosses? Or are you just going to call me Sloane?
Sloane extends a hand toward SCP-8944. It flinches and slowly leans back in its chair. Sloane retracts his hand.
Sloane: …just call me Sloane, yeah?
SCP-8944: …Sloane it is.
Sloane smiles.
Sloane: Then Robin you are.
Sloane and SCP-8944 sit in silence for a moment before he speaks.
Sloane: Hey. Did you know that most psychiatrists… that’s what we’re called by the way, not shrinks. But most of us actually start out as clients of therapy ourselves!
SCP-8944: Since that’s not very funny, I take it you’re telling the truth. What was wrong with you?
Sloane: Another common misconception. People who seek out psychiatric assistance aren’t wrong, or broken, or anything like that. They just want help. And it’s never wrong to ask for help.
Sloane chuckles, leans back in his chair, and crosses his arms.
Sloane: I guess I was pretty fucked up at the time, though. You see, my father had recently passed away, which is what prompted me to seek out said psychiatric assistance in the first place.
A prolonged moment of silence passes before SCP-8944 responds.
SCP-8944: …oh. I’m sorry for your loss.
Sloane smiles.
Sloane: Thank you, Robin. His death left me with some… lingering and conflicting emotions regarding how I felt about the old man, so I sought out someone that I could talk through these emotions with. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my father. It’s just that the ways in which we chose to express that love was… stunted. Complicated. He was a very complicated man and, in the wake of his death, I found myself left to grieve with no closure to our relationship.
SCP-8944: …and did it help?
Sloane: I like to think that it did, if only a little. In my opinion, there’s no such thing as being fixed, there’s no fixity to achieve. Therapy isn’t a pill that you can pop twice a day to cure an infection, right? Sure, someone or something might go away, but your experiences with them will always be there… they’ll always be with you. And no matter how long it takes to accept that, your acceptance of it will reveal the path to nirvana. It’s sitting first class on the Polar Express, it’s a private tour of the Chocolate Factory! Right?
SCP-8944 clears its throat.
SCP-8944: …okay. Hey, that’s a nice pen.
SCP-8944 nods toward Sloane. He looks down at his breast pocket and unclips the fountain pen. The majority of the pen’s body is a glossy black, broken up only by bands of gold and varying width. Sloane holds the pen up in one hand, like an obsidian obelisk, and twists it with his fingers.
Sloane: Thank you… truth be told, I was wondering when you’d notice it since you seem to have such a penchant for shiny things that belong to other people.
Sloane slowly extends his hand toward SCP-8944. It hesitates for a moment before extending its own hand and taking the pen from Sloane.
SCP-8944: I mean, who doesn’t? That must date back to caveman times or something, getting excited over an extra shiny rock in a cave or the stars in a pitch black sky. If you think about it that way, I’m really just a slave to millions of years of evolution…
Sloane and SCP-8944 laugh. It finishes its examination of the pen and hands it back to Sloane.
Sloane: It seems we’re both haunted by the things that came before us, huh?
SCP-8944 chuckles, its laughter dying down, and nods.
SCP-8944: …it would seem that way.
Sloane sighs, fidgeting with the pen. He twists and twirls it in his hands, uncapping and recapping it.
Sloane: And like their storybook counterparts, ghosts of the past seem to haunt you wherever you go… my father gave me this pen on his deathbed.
SCP-8944 does not respond. Sloane chuckles, mostly to himself, then continues.
Sloane: He’d always fancied himself a writer, dreamed of writing the next “…great American novel,” whatever that meant. But… he never got around to it, I guess. You should’ve seen our garage, it was chock-full of boxes of notebooks containing half-baked ideas and random scrawlings. He gave me this pen in hopes that I’d use it to fulfill his dream for him but… I don’t consider myself much of a writer.
A moment passes before SCP-8944 responds.
SCP-8944: …my dad is dead, too.
Sloane: …ah. I’m sorry to hear that, Robin.
SCP-8944 shrugs.
SCP-8944: It’s alright. He was a piece of shit through and through, so don’t worry about it.
Sloane: Can I ask you a question?
SCP-8944 does not respond.
Sloane: …will you tell me what happened to your mouth?
SCP-8944 looks away. The teeth on the right-hand side of its mouth can be seen through the laceration to its lips.
SCP-8944: …I was running with a pair of scissors and slipped. My teachers always told me not to, I just wish that I’d listened.
Sloane: …right. Well, in any case, whoever dressed your wound did a terrible job. I’m shocked that it’s not infected.
SCP-8944 turns back toward Sloane.
SCP-8944: Oh, okay, so you’re a physician now? Shouldn’t you be showing me ink blots or something? Fuck you, man. Maybe they dressed my wound the best that they could with what they had!
Sloane raises an eyebrow and smirks. SCP-8944 looks away again.
SCP-8944: …that’s just a guess, though. I don’t know.
Sloane: Has anyone taken a look at it since you arrived?
SCP-8944 slowly shakes its head.
Sloane: Okay. I’ll send an on-site medic to your containment chamber after your test to take a look at it. Is that alright?
SCP-8944 slowly nods, turning back toward Sloane.
Sloane: Good. Thank you, Robin. While we’re on the topic of injuries, I’d like to talk about those if you’re willing to…
Sloane gestures to the small burns on SCP-8944’s body. It rolls up one sleeve of its containment jumpsuit, revealing several more burns scattered across its forearm, as well as slightly bruised skin farther up its arm.
SCP-8944: …what about them?
Sloane: You don’t find it strange that these injuries appear on your body out of nowhere?
SCP-8944: Not nowhere, it’s…
SCP-8944 shrugs.
SCP-8944: …look, it’s been happening for so long now that I’ve almost stopped noticing, you know? It’s like how when you walk past the same things every day they start to just… fade away.
Sloane: Robin. Did your father do that to you?
SCP-8944: …no? You’ve been here the entire time, haven’t you?
Sloane: Come on, kid. Not those burns specifically, just… did he burn you?
SCP-8944: Oh.
SCP-8944 looks down into its lap for a moment before returning Sloane’s gaze.
SCP-8944: …yeah, he did. I deserved it, though, I was a bratty kid… am a bratty kid, I guess. I just… I never knew when to shut up, you know?
Sloane leans forward.
Sloane: Hey. You did not deserve that. No parent has any right to hurt their child like that. It’s important to me that you understand what I’m saying, Robin. Your father being a degenerate is not your fault.
SCP-8944 looks away.
SCP-8944: Yeah, well… it worked out in the end, so it doesn’t matter. It kept his attention on me and away from Wren most of the time, so…
Sloane: I’m sorry, Wren? That’s your…
SCP-8944 pauses for a moment.
SCP-8944: …my kid sister. You say that I didn’t deserve any of it, fine, we’ll agree to disagree. But Wren? God, she deserved so much better.
Sloane smiles.
Sloane: It’s good that she had you there to look out for her, Robin. I’m sure that your presence alone soothed her more than you’ll ever know.
SCP-8944: I hope you’re right.
Sloane clears his throat and shifts in his chair.
Sloane: If I understand the situation correctly, Wren is currently missing, no?
SCP-8944 does not respond.
Sloane: …do you have any idea where she might be? We just want to make sure that she’s safe, to protect her, like you did while the two of you were growing up.
SCP-8944’s voice drops to a whisper.
SCP-8944: …no, you don’t.
Sloane: I’m sorry?
SCP-8944 raises its voice.
SCP-8944: No, you don’t! You don’t give a fuck about her, get real! You just want to lock her in a box like you did with me.
Sloane: We’re not in the business of tearing families apart, Robin. On that, you’ll just have to trust me. We prefer bringing them together when the opportunity arises.
SCP-8944 shakes its head.
SCP-8944: No. No, you’re lying.
Sloane: We just want to help her.
SCP-8944: Like you helped me?
A moment passes.
Sloane: …let’s call it there for today, okay? We’re running a bit short on time anyway. Was there anything else that you wanted to talk about?
SCP-8944: …when are they going to let me leave?
Sloane: I…
Sloane leans back in his chair and sighs.
Sloane: I’m afraid that the answer to that question is a bit above my pay grade, Robin. But listen to me. You are going to be okay. I know that this is all so new and strange, that it may be difficult to get a grasp on exactly what’s happening.
Sloane leans forward.
Sloane: If you take only one thing away from our session today, let it be this. We are on your side. We want your time with us to be as stress-free as possible. Now, that does come with the slight prerequisite of your scheduled testing, which I hear you’ve already started! Your first test wasn’t too difficult, right?
SCP-8944 does not respond.
Sloane: …but they’re temporary, Robin. You won’t have to do them forever, okay? I promise you, if you cooperate with Senior Researcher Andvari now, it’ll make all of our lives much easier in the future. And I’ll even talk to him on your behalf, see if I can get you some leniency. Does that sound good?
SCP-8944 does not respond for a moment, eventually nodding.
Sloane: Alright then. It was lovely to finally meet you, Robin. I’m looking forward to our future sessions together. Jude should arrive any minute to walk you to your assigned exclusion chamber.
<END LOG>
Test Log #2
Date: 11 / 24 / 2025
Testing Location: Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ
Foreword: During the three day containment period preceding SCP-8944’s second test, it continued to advance through the early stages of its secondary anomalous reaction. This stage is primarily characterized by bruising beginning to appear across SCP-8944’s body, in addition to the small burns. The bruising is frequently localized to the chest, stomach, and general torso region, though instances of periorbital hematoma (colloquially known as black eyes) are not uncommon throughout this stage of the secondary anomalous reaction.
Subject’s Mark: A wallet guarded by Agent Wichita
Experiment: Agent Wichita was given an empty wallet to place in her pocket and instructed to walk about Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ, taking extra precautions to ensure that the wallet remained in her possession. SCP-8944 was outfitted with standard Class-D garb and its hands were restrained behind its back with a pair of standard issue, non-anomalous handcuffs. Five additional Class-D personnel were sent into the exclusion chamber alongside SCP-8944, who was instructed to steal the wallet from Agent Wichita in no more than three minutes. After the three minutes had passed, Agent Wichita was instructed to return the wallet. However, she begrudgingly informed Senior Researcher Andvari that she was no longer in possession of the assigned mark, and was unclear as to how she had lost it. When SCP-8944 was instructed to return the wallet, it returned it, and the pair of handcuffs, to Senior Researcher Andvari.
Conclusion: Upon reviewing surveillance footage of the test, it was revealed that prior to SCP-8944’s theft of Agent Wichita, it had intentionally dislocated the thumb of its left hand in order to maneuver its hand from the handcuffs. After resetting the initial dislocation, it intentionally dislocated the thumb of its right hand, maneuvered the hand from the handcuffs, reset the dislocation, and placed the handcuffs into its pocket. SCP-8944 began to navigate through the Class-D personnel in an effort to obscure itself from Agent Wichita. While it was walking about the exclusion chamber, thorough reexamination of the surveillance footage revealed that the wallet being guarded by Agent Wichita anomalously moved from the left-hand side pocket of her pants to the right-hand side pocket. Agent Wichita became distracted by the anomalous switch, SCP-8944 knocked into her, stole the wallet while she was guarding her empty pocket, and was pushed back. Notably, SCP-8944 appeared to display an immediate and intense relief as the injuries manifested by its secondary anomalous reaction began to heal themselves upon the theft of the wallet.
Search of SCP-8944 - following Test #2
Contraband Found: A singular broken chain link from the pair of handcuffs employed during the second test.
Addendum - 8944.4: Psychiatric Evaluation, Session #2
Hide Addendum
Interviewed: SCP-8944
Interviewer: Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane
Date: 11 / 28 / 2025
<BEGIN LOG>
SCP-8944 slowly pulls the door to Sloane’s office open. Jude stands behind it, her arms crossed. It lingers in the doorway with one arm resting against one side of the doorframe. A small burn is barely visible on its wrist, beneath the sleeve of its containment jumpsuit, and its right eye is swollen shut. It avoids making eye contact with Sloane. Jude lowers her voice and nods forward.
Jude: …go on now.
SCP-8944 hesitates before shuffling into Sloane’s office and sitting down in the empty chair across from Sloane’s own. It winces when its back touches the chair’s backrest, resigning to lean forward. Sloane flashes a brief smile at Jude.
Sloane: Thank you, Jude.
Jude: Doctor.
Jude closes the door. Sloane sits down and turns his smile toward SCP-8944. They sit in silence for approximately three minutes before it sighs.
SCP-8944: So… are you getting payed by the hour for this gig or does it depend on how much you can get me to crack and start weeping about my childhood?
It mimes wiping a faux tear from its uninjured eye.
SCP-8944: Oh, doctor, you’ve fixed me! How can I ever repay you? Hmmm… I know! Why don’t you run as many tests on me as you’d like!
Sloane laughs.
Sloane: Alright, first of all, you’re pretty much still in your childhood so I don’t know if that’d qualify—
SCP-8944 shrugs.
SCP-8944: More fuel to the fire, I say.
Sloane: —and second of all, if I was getting payed for how much I could get you to crack, I’d be making pennies on the dollar. You’d put me out of a job, kid!
SCP-8944 smiles and raises its hands in a show of surrender.
SCP-8944: Guilty as charged.
Sloane: …hey. Do you remember what I said in our last session?
SCP-8944: When you lied to me about being an animal therapist?
Sloane smiles.
Sloane: No. People who seek out psychiatric assistance aren’t broken. They don’t need to be fixed. They just want some help, right? And…
Sloane trails off. SCP-8944 rolls its eyes.
SCP-8944: …it’s never wrong to ask for help.
Sloane: Aha! I am getting through to you! Even if it’s just a little bit.
SCP-8944: Keep this up and I might actually start to crack. Then you’ll really have your work cut out for you.
Sloane chuckles for a moment before falling silent.
Sloane: I’d like to apologize for how our last session ended. I can’t help but feel as though we didn’t leave on the best of terms. I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life. The whole point of these sessions is for you to tell me whatever you’re comfortable telling me. Basically, I didn’t jump the gun, I jumped the entire armory. I’m sorry, Robin.
SCP-8944 looks at Sloane warily and shrugs.
SCP-8944: …it’s fine. I know you’re just doing your job.
Sloane: Thank you. So, how are your tests going? Is Simon treating you well? Or as well as he can be, I suppose… Simon is Senior Researcher Andvari, by the way.
SCP-8944: He’s…
SCP-8944 trails off.
Sloane: He can be a bit intimidating, can’t he? Trust me, I know.
SCP-8944: I was going to say intense. Driven. But, to be honest, the chick freaks me out way more than he does.
SCP-8944 shudders.
Sloane: Aside from the fear factor, are the tests going smoothly?
SCP-8944 shrugs.
SCP-8944: I guess. I’ve never really gotten the chance to experiment with my… uhhh… stealing before. So, there’s that. It’s always just been a tool for me, you know?
Sloane: …and how have you been holding up?
SCP-8944 does not respond.
Sloane: …that’s one hell of a thing, Robin.
SCP-8944: What, this?
SCP-8944 gestures to its injured eye.
SCP-8944: It’s fine. It’s been a lot worse than this. This is nothing.
Sloane leans forward in his chair.
Sloane: It’s not nothing, Robin. It’s not nothing. Look, if you’d ever like me to see if I can get your next test pushed forward a bit, I’d be happy to talk to Simon on your behalf. I’d let you swipe a dollar from my pocket during our sessions but I don’t think he’d be too happy with me.
SCP-8944 smiles weakly.
SCP-8944: No, probably not… but thank you. I appreciate the offer. I’m really alright though, like I said, it’s been worse.
Sloane: Even so. Can I do anything for you? Can I get you some water? I can look into getting more food delivered to your containment chamber more frequently. I’d like to do something to help.
SCP-8944: If I asked you a question or two… would you answer them honestly?
Sloane: I’ll certainly answer them to the best of my ability. Shoot.
SCP-8944: …who are you people?
A moment passes. Sloane leans back in his chair.
Sloane: As I’m sure you’ve already gathered by now, we’re the SCP Foundation.
Sloane lowers his voice and winks.
Sloane: …but you can just call us the Foundation. Lord knows there are enough acronyms to keep track of.
SCP-8944 smiles.
Sloane: We secure, contain, and protect anomalies from around the world… and beyond. Things that… how should I put this… contrast against the general order of things. Like your abilities, for example.
SCP-8944: I thought that shadow governments were just a conspiracy theory.
Sloane smiles.
Sloane: We’re pretty good at our jobs, right?
SCP-8944: So, what, are you saying you’ve known about me all this time? Why wait so long to take me in?
Sloane: Unfortunately, it wasn’t us who discovered you. It was the Unusual Incidents Unit, the UIU for short. See what I mean about the acronyms? They’re a branch of the FBI that responds to anomalous crimes or events. Unfortunately for them, the US government doesn’t provide the division with nearly enough funding for such a monumental assignment, but they make do with what they have. We’re still trying to figure out how you tipped them off.
SCP-8944: Christ… this is some Illuminati shit…
Sloane shrugs.
Sloane: In layman’s terms… sure.
SCP-8944: So… is there some sort of… I don’t know…
SCP-8944 trails off. Sloane smiles.
Sloane: Yes?
SCP-8944: …a rehabilitation program or something? Someway for you to make me normal so that I can go home?
Sloane pauses for a moment, casting his gaze downward. He shakes his head and sighs.
Sloane: I’m sorry, Robin. We don’t deal in the neutralization of anomalies, exclusively their containment.
SCP-8944’s uninjured eye widens.
SCP-8944: NEUTRALIZE?! What the fuck do you mean, neutralize?!
Sloane: What? Shit, no, I’m sorry, that was a poor choice of words. In our business, to neutralize means to make non-anomalous. I’m sorry, Robin, I should’ve explained that better. Nothing is going to happen to you.
SCP-8944: But… you won’t do it? You won’t make me normal?
Sloane: There’s no need for you to be made normal, right? You aren’t broken, there’s nothing to fix.
SCP-8944 slams a balled fist onto one arm of its chair.
SCP-8944: I know that, alright?! You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.
Sloane: …no. We can’t remove what makes you anomalous, Robin. I’m sorry.
SCP-8944: …you can’t? Or you won’t?
Sloane does not respond.
SCP-8944: I didn’t ask to be like this.
Sloane: I know, kid.
SCP-8944: I don’t want to be like this!
Tears begin to gather at the corners of SCP-8944’s eyes.
Sloane: I know… I know. I’m sorry.
SCP-8944: …they’re never going to let me leave. Are they?
Sloane: …no answer that I give you is going to be a wholly satisfying one, Robin. And that’s because every case is different from the last and will be different from whatever comes after it. In a way, that speaks to the nature of our Foundation within the collective systems of our world. We are an organization of order attempting to control an immeasurable chaos. It’s not good versus evil, I want you to understand that. It is not good versus evil.
SCP-8944 slowly, nearly imperceptibly nods.
Sloane: It’s order versus chaos. And there’s different kinds of each. Good order, bad order… good chaos and bad chaos. You represent an unwilling agent of chaos that we’re just trying to make sense of, that’s all. I don’t know what your future holds, Robin. But I can at least promise you that with us, you’ll be safe. We can protect you, Robin, and we can protect Wren! You can at least understand why it might be disconcerting for an organization such as ours to know that someone else who may possess your abilities is out there, up to God knows what, can’t you?
SCP-8944’s uninjured eye widens, fresh tears shimmering along its reddened edge.SCP-8944: …you really believe that she’d hurt someone? That she’s even capable of hurting anyone?
Sloane: We don’t know, Robin. We just don’t know. And for a people who pride themselves upon their accumulation of knowledge, not knowing something is a dangerous concept.
A moment passes.SCP-8944: …do you have any siblings, Sloane?
Sloane: I…
He trails off.
Sloane: …no. I don’t.
SCP-8944: Do you ever hate him for what he did to you? …or yourself, for what you became because of him?
Sloane raises an eyebrow.
Sloane: …my father? I mean, sure, sometimes. But the feeling usually passes… eventually. Like I said, our relationship was complicated.
SCP-8944 laughs.
SCP-8944: Maybe I should consider myself lucky.
Sloane: How’s that?
SCP-8944: My own hatred was much easier for me to justify.
There’s a knock at the door. From outside of Sloane’s office, Jude’s voice is muffled.
Jude: Doctor. Your time is up.
Sloane: Right… right.
SCP-8944 stands. Sloane stands.
Sloane: Robin. Let me talk to Simon about your testing. I’m sure that I could get him to ease up or change some things around so you’re not always at the whim of your reaction. Despite what you might think of us, of the Foundation, we don’t want to hurt you… I don’t enjoy seeing you like this. Please. Let me help.
SCP-8944 smiles, returning Sloane’s gaze through its swollen eye.
SCP-8944: Thanks, Doc. But this is nothing. I’ve been through worse.
SCP-8944 opens the door, exits the office, and closes the door behind it. Sloane pushes his glasses up to his forehead and rubs his eyes.
Sloane: …shit.
<END LOG>
Re: Incident Report 2025-160
To: Senior Researcher Simon Andvari
From: Researcher Cassidy Moon
Date: 11 / 28 / 2025
Subject: Incident Report 2025-160
Senior Researcher Andvari,
At your request, I’ve been in talks with one of our liaisons within the FBI regarding their relinquishing of SCP-8944’s complete report form, including the incident report that was missing from their initial documentation of the anomaly. We emailed back and forth for a while, talked owed favors and such, but he eventually agreed to hand over the report. All in all, it was a short conversation considering that we have their perpetrator in containment and they had made zero headway in their own investigations before I had reached out. I’ve attached a transcript of Incident Report 2025-160 below. We may need to update SCP-8944’s containment procedures.
Incident Report 2025-160
Date: 11 / 03 / 2025
Persons / Suspects Involved: Officer Peter Fellows, Officer Roland Graham, Robin Crowe, Wren Crowe, Corbin Crowe
Foreword: The following incident report was transcribed from Officer Graham’s raw body camera footage, as his body camera was the only one that was actively recording at the time. Due to the absence of the Crowe children’s mother, one Bronwyn Crowe (née Ellery), Officer Fellows and Officer Graham were deployed to the apartment complex where the Crowe children lived with their father in response to a potential domestic abuse incident. A recently moved-in resident of the apartment complex had called the local police department to report “loud banging sounds” and “muffled shouting” originating from Corbin Crowe’s apartment.
<BEGIN LOG>
An elevator dings, trembles for a moment, and comes to a stop. The doors slide open and Fellows and Graham step out. They begin walking down the hall of the apartment complex’s fifth floor.
Fellows: …just follow my lead. I’ve dealt with this guy before, we bagged him a few months back on a DUI. Corbin Crowe… he’s a slimeball but he hasn’t got the spine to do anything serious. Flash a badge, maybe wave your gun around a bit, and he should calm right down.
Graham: …aren’t there children in there?
Fellows gestures to the dilapidated walls and dim wall-mounted lights around them.
Fellows: Look where you’re standing, kid. They’ve seen worse than a gun before.
Fellows and Graham turn left and continue walking down the hall.
Graham: So… he hits them? His kids, I mean.
Fellows shrugs.
Fellows: What parent doesn’t spank their kids every now and then?
Graham: But this isn’t the first report of domestic abuse that we’ve gotten from their apartment.
Fellows looks at Graham and raises an eyebrow. Graham looks away.
Graham: …I skimmed his rap sheet on the ride over. Why don’t we just book him?
Fellows sighs.
Fellows: The older one, what’s his name… uhhh…
Fellows snaps his fingers several times.
Graham: Robin?
Fellows points at Graham.
Fellows: Robin, yes! He’s got a little sister, doesn’t he? Look, kid, as someone who grew up in the system, I’d take a belt to the back every once in a while over that shit-show any day of the week… and I was an only child! All that I had to worry about was looking out for number one.
Graham: Huh… I guess I never thought about it like that.
Fellows: Give it a few years.
Fellows and Graham stop outside of an apartment numbered “516.”
Fellows: You remember what I told you?
Graham nods.
Fellows: Good. Can you hear anything?
Graham steps forward and presses an ear against the apartment’s door. Several seconds pass before he steps back and shakes his head.
Graham: Nothing.
Fellows: Alright then. I’ll take the lead, you stand back and soak in the experience.
Fellows raises a fist as if to knock on the door.
Fellows: You—
Fellows and Graham freeze. Suddenly, the sounds of glass shattering, someone beginning to cry, and a muffled voice can be heard from within the apartment. Fellows immediately draws his pistol and takes a step back. He nods at Graham, who returns the nod, stepping behind him. Fellows raises a foot and kicks the door near its knob. The wood cracks, splinters, and Fellows shoves it open and enters the apartment. Graham follows close behind.
Fellows: HARLEM PD! Get your hands in the… air…
Fellows lowers his pistol. Robin Crowe, henceforth designated as “the suspect,” is standing in the small apartment’s open kitchen, in front of a sink, filling a glass of water. On the floor in the middle of the room is a shattered glass sitting in a small puddle of water. In the sink, next to the slowly filling glass, is a wet butcher’s knife. The suspect’s hand holding the glass in place is colored a faint red. With his other hand, the suspect holds a damp rag against his mouth, taking an occasional drag from a lit cigarette pinched between his lips. After each drag, he slowly lowers the rag, allowing a plume of smoke to billow from a gaping wound to the corner of his mouth. On the opposite side of the room from the suspect is Wren Crowe. Tears are streaming down her face, a blood-stained tissue is pressed against her crooked nose, and her hands are trembling as she attempts to open a window leading to the apartment’s fire escape. A small backpack is strapped to her back. Corbin Crowe is nowhere to be seen. The suspect looks from Wren, to the officers, and back. Nobody moves. Water begins to pour down the sides of the glass in his hand.
Suspect: GO, GO, GO!
The suspect drops the glass into the sink and sprints toward Wren. The damp rag and lit cigarette fall to the floor.
Fellows: SHIT—
Fellows runs after the suspect, his boots grinding the shattered glass on the floor into finer shards. He levels his pistol at the suspect, his index finger wrapping around the trigger. As the suspect sprints across the room, he extends an arm toward Fellows, the fingers of his hand splayed. In an instant, Fellows’ pistol is ripped from his grasp, flying across the room and landing in the suspect’s open hand.
Fellows: WHAT THE FUCK?!
Fellows and Graham turn toward each other, two sets of eyes wide, two jaws agape. The suspect and Wren climb out of the open window and start descending the fire escape. Fellows makes frantic and repeated grabbing motions at Graham as he inches toward the open window.
Fellows: Gun! Gun! Give me your gun, damn it!
Graham: Right!
Graham draws his pistol, grabbing it by the barrel, and extends the grip toward Fellows. He immediately snatches the pistol from Graham’s hand, sprints across the room, and vaults through the open window to pursue the suspect and Wren, breathing heavily.
Graham: You’ve gotta be kidding me!
Graham sprints after Fellows, stopping to look out of the open window as he continues his pursuit down the fire escape. The suspect and Wren have reached the bottom of the fire escape, now standing in the alleyway between the apartment complex and the adjacent building. The suspect covers his hand with the sleeve of his shirt and wipes the grip of Fellows’ pistol on his pant leg before tossing it into a nearby dumpster. He crouches down and says something to Wren that Graham’s body camera cannot pick up. He wipes a tear from Wren’s cheek with his thumb, moves one of her hands over the blood-stained tissue in her nose, plants a kiss on the top of her head, and stands. She rushes forward and wraps her arms around him, saying something to him while continuing to cry. The suspect hugs her back and smiles before beginning to gently push her down one side of the alleyway while he turns toward its other side. However, the suspect freezes, spins back around, gently grabs one of Wren’s hands, and pulls her into another hug, resting his head atop her own. She returns the hug. The suspect says something and Wren nods. He pulls back after several seconds and the two begin to walk in separate directions. Fellows reaches the bottom of the fire escape and cranes his neck to look back up toward Graham, whose head is poking out of the open window. Fellows shouts between gasping breaths.
Fellows: Stay… here! Call… for… backup!
Fellows begins to turn toward Wren when the suspect shouts from behind him.
Suspect: HEY, OFFICER FELLOWS!
Fellows’ head snaps toward the suspect. The suspect laughs.
Suspect: Yeah… you thought I wouldn’t remember you, didn’t you, you FAT FUCK?
He laughs again.
Suspect: I heard about what happened last month, by the way. With that junkie shoplifter? I’m shocked that they gave you back your gun after nearly blowing your big toe off!
Fellows grits his teeth and starts walking toward the suspect.
Suspect: …how about it, tough guy? Do you want to check the safety before pulling the trigger this time?
Several seconds of silence pass. Fellows glances down at the pistol in his hand and the suspect immediately turns and sprints out of the alley.
Fellows: What—GOD DAMN IT!
Fellows sprints after the suspect. Wren walks out of the other side of the alleyway, turns a corner, and vanishes from Graham’s body camera. Graham sighs, steps back from the window, and presses the push-to-talk button on his shoulder-mounted transceiver.
Graham: Hello?
A voice responds, laced with static.
Voice: What’s up, Roland?
Graham: We’ve got a couple of runners near West 132nd, a young man around 16 to 18 years old and a girl no older than 13. If you need more details, get in touch with Pete, he’s in pursuit as we speak.
Voice: Roger that. Talk soon.
Graham releases the push-to-talk button and his shoulder-mounted transceiver falls silent.
Graham: Christ… what a mess…
For several minutes, Graham stands in silence, his back leaning against the window sill. Eventually, he walks into the open kitchen and turns off the sink’s faucet, pouring the contents of the glass into the sink, and setting it upside down on a drying rack next to the sink. He looks down at the discarded rag and cigarette. He stamps out the cigarette beneath his boot before tossing it into a nearby trash can and placing the rag on the kitchen counter. Graham looks back toward the small pile of shattered glass on the floor and hums to himself. He crouches down and begins to look through the drawers beneath the sink, pulling out an old dustpan. Graham looks around the apartment, presumably searching for an accompanying broom, and his eyes land on a small closet next to the kitchen.
Graham: Ah.
Graham walks to the closet and opens the door. Corbin Crowe’s body, haphazardly wrapped in a bed sheet, drops to the floor. Graham stares at it. Suddenly, Fellows appears at the apartment’s entrance, leaning against the busted doorframe trying to catch his breath.
Fellows: Little fucker… gave me the slip… Christ, that kid is fast…
Fellows takes a deep breath and stands up straight.
Fellows: I hope you got that call for backup in because otherwise it’s your… ass…
He spots the body at Graham’s feet.
Fellows: …oh shit.
<END LOG>
The UIU saw fit to handle the memories of those involved. Although, our liaison neglected to inform me in regard to the success of this venture. As I’m sure Agent Wichita has already told you, the obituary section of the local newspaper listed Corbin’s cause of death as an alcohol-induced heart failure. But the UIU’s after action report of the incident tells a different story. That report also lists Corbin’s death as a heart failure but not because of any alcohol poisoning. It’s because when the coroner was performing the autopsy, his heart was gone. And yet, there were no signs of any damage to his chest, directly over where his heart would have been. According to our liaison, they still haven’t found it. Let me know if I can do anything else to help. Thank you,
Cassidy Moon.
Test Log #3
Date: 11 / 28 / 2025
Testing Location: Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ
Foreword: During the four day containment period preceding SCP-8944’s third test, it continued to advance toward the later stages of its secondary anomalous reaction. This transitional phase from the early to late stages is primary characterized by the appearance of large, uniform contusions localized exclusively across SCP-8944’s back. Dissimilar to the other injuries manifested by SCP-8944’s secondary anomalous reaction, which typically take several seconds to completely appear on its body, the contusions on its back appear immediately, as the skin reddens instantly before developing into large bruises (alongside an occasional laceration) over the course of several hours.
Subject’s Mark: A steel lockbox
Experiment: A standard steel lockbox equipped with a non-anomalous, lock-and-key padlock was placed atop a small table in Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ. The key to unlock the lockbox was not provided. SCP-8944 was instructed to steal the contents of the lockbox in no more than one minute.
Conclusion: SCP-8944 began its third test by scouring the outside of the steel lockbox for approximately thirty seconds. Upon completion of its examination, it touched a closed fist to the front-facing side of the lockbox. It clenched its fist tightly, grabbing its forearm with its other hand in an effort to stop its entire arm from trembling. It unclenched and opened its fist approximately ten seconds later and a small key was in its palm. The injuries manifested from its secondary anomalous reaction immediately began to heal themselves. It inserted the key into the padlock, removed the padlock, and opened the lockbox to find an identical key to the one in its hand inside. Rather than stealing the key from within the lockbox in order to unlock it, SCP-8944 had stolen the twin key that was used to lock the original key inside of the lockbox from a desk drawer within Senior Researcher Andvari’s office. When questioned as to its methods, SCP-8944 claimed that it had simply desired a way of accessing the lockbox’s contents. But lacking the required knowledge of its mark, its ontokinetic abilities interpreted its desire in an unexpected manner. Following this test, the strength of all Scranton Reality Anchors immediately adjacent to Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ were increased.
Additional Comments: As our knowledge regarding SCP-8944 has deepened since its containment, so to do the theories developed by Researcher Moon and I regarding the disclosing intricacies of its capabilities as a Type Green entity. The effort to extremity ratio of this third test (i.e. the energy expended in relation to the difficulty of the task) is leading us to believe that there exists a more complex relationship between SCP-8944’s ontokinetic abilities and its secondary anomalous reaction than was previously believed. SCP-8944 expended less energy when compared to its previous tests, despite its assigned task theoretically necessitating an increase in effort on its behalf. Simply put, in a similar process to adrenaline boosting oxygen delivery to the muscles, the more pain that SCP-8944 is experiencing, the more heightened, almost desperate, its ontokinetic abilities become in order to heal its body. However, as we’ve already discovered, the utilization of SCP-8944’s ontokinetic abilities exclusively heal the injuries that it’s sustained through its secondary anomalous reaction, leaving injuries sustained from an outside source or third party completely unaffected. There are so many possibilities to consider. More testing is required.
Search of SCP-8944 - following Test #3
Contraband Found: N / A
Addendum - 8944.5: Psychiatric Evaluation, Session #3
Hide Addendum
Interviewed: SCP-8944
Interviewer: Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane
Date: 12 / 03 / 2025
<BEGIN LOG>
Sloane is sitting in his chair and writing in his notebook. His fountain pen glides furiously across the page, while the pen’s cap is pinched between his teeth. The door opens. Sloane snaps the cap back onto the fountain pen, slides it into the breast pocket of his coat, closes his notebook, and slots it next to the arm of his chair. He stands and smiles.
Sloane: Ah! You two are right on time, as… always…
Sloane’s smile drops. SCP-8944 is leaning against Jude for support, an arm slung around her armored shoulder while she, in turn, assists it in standing upright with an arm wrapped gently around its back. It lumbers from Jude to the doorframe, grasping at it to prevent itself from falling. It draws it and exhales choked, ragged breaths and it is sweating profusely. Its arms and torso are entirely wrapped in gauze and medical tape, visible through the sleeves and neckline of its containment jumpsuit. Portions of the medical tape are caked in dried blood. Its right eye is bruised, swollen completely shut. It turns back toward Jude and smiles weakly.
SCP-8944: …thank you.
Jude nods.
Jude: I’ll be—
SCP-8944 suddenly doubles over, grabbing its left wrist with its hand in a white-knuckled grip as its entire arm begins to tremble. It groans silently through grit teeth and presses itself against the doorframe to keep from dropping to its knees. As if being cut from an invisible blade, a long gash slowly begins to open across the knuckles of its left hand. Blood immediately begins to flow between its fingers and down the sides of its hand, soaking the medical tape that ceases at its wrist a deep crimson. Sloane chokes out a nervous laugh, raking a hand through his hair.
Sloane: Christ… what is he doing to you…
Sloane meets Jude’s gaze and frantically gestures toward SCP-8944.
Sloane: What are you doing?! HELP HIM! Do something, for fuck’s sake!
SCP-8944 shakily raises its uninjured hand and Sloane quiets. It speaks between gasping breaths. Upon reaching the opposite side of the back of its hand, the gash ceases manifesting. The injury manifested completely in approximately 10 seconds.
SCP-8944: STOP. I’m fine, man. Damn… what part of “it’s been worse” don’t… don’t you understand?!
SCP-8944 snaps, beginning to dab at the fresh cut with gauze removed from the medical tape wrapped around its wrist. Sloane does not respond. Jude clears her throat.
Jude: I’ve been ordered by Senior Researcher Andvari not to provide any medical assistance regarding the anomaly’s secondary anomalous reaction. He claims that it has the potential to interfere with their tests.
Sloane growls under his breath.
Sloane: …that’s a load of horse shit.
Jude looks down toward SCP-8944.
Jude: I’ll be here when your session is over.
SCP-8944 nods slowly. Sloane draws in a deep breath, exhales, and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, pushing his glasses up to his forehead in the process.
Sloane: Thank you, Jude. I’m… I’m sorry for yelling.
Jude: It’s alright, Doctor. I’ll be back.
Jude nods to SCP-8944 and steps out of the room, closing the door behind her. Several minutes pass in complete silence. The only sound in the small room is SCP-8944’s gradually steadying breath. It stands with its back leaning against the door. The bleeding on its hand has slowed considerably. Sloane stands across the room, watching it. Another minute passes. It shuffles to the empty chair across from Sloane’s and gently lowers itself, groaning as it sits. It looks up at Sloane and smiles wearily.
SCP-8944: I’ll take that cup of water if it’s still on the table.
Sloane nods immediately.
Sloane: Of course.
He rushes to a small water cooler in the corner of the room and fills a paper cup, walking back and handing it to SCP-8944. It raises the cup to its lips with its uninjured hand and takes a sip, tilting its head ever so slightly to the left to avoid the injury to its mouth. Sloane sits down.
Sloane: …how are you feeling today, Robin? A stupid question, I know. Just… humor me. Please.
SCP-8944 shrugs and places the cup of water on the floor next to its chair.
SCP-8944: Same old, same old. Meh.
Sloane: Is there anything in particular that you’d like to talk about today?
SCP-8944: No, not that I can think of.
Sloane: Are you sure? There’s nothing that you’d like to discuss?
A moment passes before SCP-8944 raises an eyebrow.
SCP-8944: …is there anything that you’d like to talk about?
Sloane: We’ve come into some… disconcerting information recently. You remember me mentioning the UIU, don’t you? You know, the US’s shadow government?
Sloane laughs uncomfortably.
Sloane: They finally coughed up a part of their original report on you that we’d been missing. But before we talk about it… I’d prefer to hear about what happened from you.
SCP-8944 narrows its uninjured eye at Sloane.
SCP-8944: What’re you…
It slowly trails off. Its eye widens and it seems to sink into its chair.
SCP-8944: …they found him, didn’t they?
Tears begin to gather at the corners of its eyes.
SCP-8944: Look, I—I didn’t mean to, it—it was an accident, I swear!
It bites down onto its lower lip and swipes at its eyes with its uninjured hand.
SCP-8944: Fuck, fuck, fuck… you’re not gonna send me to jail, are you?! I—I—I—
Sloane leans forward.
Sloane: Robin, we’re not sending you anywhere. Trust me. And even if they were going to, I wouldn’t let them, not on my life.
SCP-8944 is sucking in gasping breaths.
SCP-8944: That’s why they were all acting so weird… they fucking knew!
Sloane: What? Who was acting weird?
SCP-8944: Simon, his assistant… during our last test you’d think that they were defusing a bomb!
Sloane sighs.
Sloane: Yeah, yeah… that sounds about right. Simon’s always been more obsessed with protocol than he is with results and Cassidy? Well… a bit of a brown-noser if you ask me.
SCP-8944 swipes at its nose with the back of its uninjured hand, laughter bubbling up as its tears begin to subside.
SCP-8944: I can see that.
Sloane: But… at the same time…
Sloane rakes a hand through his hair.
Sloane: …can you entirely blame them? It was an intense report to read, kid.
SCP-8944’s smile drops and it looks away.
SCP-8944: I didn’t mean to, it just… it just happened. I don’t know what else to say.
A moment passes. Sloane’s eyes widen.
Sloane: It was the first time your father hit Wren… wasn’t it?
SCP-8944 chokes out a strangled and humorless laugh. Its eyes sting red with fresh tears.
SCP-8944: No. It was the second time.
Sloane nods slowly. SCP-8944 continues.
SCP-8944: …the first time that he hit her, I just stood back and watched. I listened as she cried, pleaded with him to stop. But I was stunned, I—I told myself, I convinced myself that it was all some kind of fluke, a mistake that he’d never make again! He’d never touched her before, it was only me! When he was drunk, or high, or bored… I was his thief! It was never her, never. So, I just watched.
It chokes out a sobbing laugh.
SCP-8944: I watched while he grabbed her, hard enough to bruise, and tossed her around like a rag doll. I told myself that it wouldn’t happen again but… really? I was scared. I was a coward. But then… it did happen again. And I knew. I knew what he was truly capable of. I knew that because he’d hit her a second time, there would be a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth, and sixth.
It pauses for a moment before continuing.
SCP-8944: It’s funny… it feels like it happened yesterday but I can’t even remember what she could’ve done to set him off like that. It could’ve been anything… not even five o’clock and he was piss drunk. She probably didn’t even do anything at all.
It turns its gaze downward.
SCP-8944: …it started like it always did. With screaming… screaming so loud that I could feel it resonate in my bones, even if I was miles away. I’d know. I could recite every word like it was a poem. But… life goes on, you know? She must’ve said something between her pointless apologies and pleas for mercy that didn’t sit quite right with him because the next thing that I know, my ears are ringing, abuzz with the sound of skin hitting skin. I decide that it’s time to get involved like the fucking superhero that I am.
It appears to sink into the chair.
SCP-8944: …I tried to get between them but he wouldn’t let me. I told him to stop. I screamed at him to stop, to leave her alone. I begged him to just forget about it, just this once. I said that I’d walk the streets of our neighborhood day and night for an entire week, an entire month, stealing for him. I said that I’d walk the entire length of Manhattan, anything to get his attention away from her, and onto me. He didn’t care. And I didn’t know what to do. I cursed him out, I threw every garbage word that I knew at him. I called him a coward, told him to beat on somebody his own size… that got his attention.
It pauses for a moment before continuing.
SCP-8944: He dropped her. He walked into the kitchen like he was taking a field sobriety test and pulled a butcher’s knife from the knife block. For a moment, I actually thought that he was going to kill me, right then and there. And part of me… a small part of me would’ve been fine with that. I was tired, I… I didn’t know how much more I could take. In that split second, I glimpsed an entire lifetime. My father was intimately familiar with the law and its list of do’s and don’ts but not enough to get away with murder. I would’ve hated leaving Wren behind but in that lifetime, with him out of the picture and her placed into foster care, I let myself dream that maybe, just maybe, there was some semblance of a better life waiting for her. Away from all of this… without me.
SCP-8944’s eyelids droop. It stares blankly, expressionless at nothing in particular as tears flow freely down its cheeks. It draws its knees to its chest, wrapping its arms around them.
SCP-8944: …but he didn’t kill me. Of course he didn’t. He forced me to the ground like it was nothing, like I was a piece of paper. He got on top of me and I couldn’t move. Wren was screaming, crying… he stuck the knife in my mouth and I couldn’t move.
It hugs its legs tighter, burying its chin into its knees.
SCP-8944: He said that he always knew my mouth would get me into trouble one day… he just didn’t know that it’d be by his own hand. He said that I just never learned when to shut up.
Tears drip onto the pants of its containment jumpsuit en masse, coloring the orange a mottled brown.
SCP-8944: He turned the blade outward and got to work.
It chokes out a sobbing laugh.
SCP-8944: My mouth was full of so much blood that I thought I’d drown before he was finished. My face felt like it was on fire. I struggled beneath him but there was nothing I could do. He carved my face and there was nothing that I could do about it. Wren charged at him. She slammed her tiny fists against his back, still screaming, still crying, telling him to get off of me, to leave me alone. I watched her but I couldn’t say anything, he wouldn’t let me. I tried to talk to her with my eyes, somehow tell her to get away. Let him air his frustrations with me, I can handle it. I’m still your big brother, I can still protect you.
It lets out a shuddering sigh and its fists tighten around its legs.
SCP-8944: But it was too late. He’d finally had enough of her. He told her to shut the fuck up, to quit her bitching, and sent an elbow back at her. It collided with her nose and she screamed… God, she screamed…
Its eyebrows furrow.
SCP-8944: Blood gushed from her, I… it was all that I could see. The red was all that I could see. She collapsed, blood pouring from her nose, and he just… he got back to work on my mouth. I didn’t allow myself a second to think before my palm was pressed against his chest. I was so tired. I just wanted everything to be over, I just… I don’t know.
It draws in and exhales a shaky breath. It shrugs.
SCP-8944: …next thing I know, his heart is in my hand, and he’s dead weight on top of me. His hand was still gripping the knife’s handle, its blade still in my mouth. I couldn’t tell if the metal I was tasting was from the knife or the blood. Wren was crying.
It wraps its arms tighter around its legs.
SCP-8944: She was crying and that was all that mattered. I wrapped his body in a bedsheet and stuffed him in the closet. I was getting us ready to run when the cops showed up… and you know the rest, I guess.
Silence. An impossibly dense silence permeates the room for what feels like hours. SCP-8944 stares at the floor. Sloane stares at it. He slowly removes his glasses, folds the temples inward, and places it in his lap.
Sloane: Robin, I… I don’t…
SCP-8944 sniffles and wipes its uninjured eye with the sleeve of its containment jumpsuit. It hesitantly returns Sloane’s gaze and attempts to smile.
SCP-8944: It’s okay, Sloane. Thank you… for listening. Even though it’s your job.
SCP-8944 laughs. Sloane does not.
Sloane: Thank you, Robin. Thank you for telling me. I… I struggle to imagine the pain that you’ve endured just to end up here. And the worry that you must feel for Wren, the pressure that you shoulder… I don’t… no words can…
Sloane trails off. A moment passes. He leans forward.
Sloane: …none of this, none of what happened, is your fault. Robin. Listen to me.
SCP-8944 is trembling. Sloane stands and steps forward. It flinches and leans back in its chair. He freezes. Only when it begins to settle does he slowly step forward again, crouching down next to its chair.
Sloane: …it’s your father’s fault, Robin. He’s to blame, not you. If anyone were to be arrested, taken away, it would’ve been him. Not you.
Tears begin to roll down SCP-8944’s face.
SCP-8944: But I killed him! I killed him, he’s dead! …but he’s not really gone, is he?
It chokes out a sobbing laugh.
SCP-8944: I’m such an idiot… God, it’s pathetic. I let him put his hands on me too many times and now they won’t come off… I can’t get them off…
Sloane: He can’t touch you anymore, Robin. He can’t hurt you, or Wren, or anyone else. You saved her. You saved yourself. You were doing your job as an older sibling, you—
SCP-8944: Tell that to them!
It nods toward the door.
SCP-8944: Contrary to popular belief, I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t want to hurt anyone.
Sloane: Come on now, nobody thinks that!
SCP-8944: Then why do they all look at me like I’m a monster, like I’m some sort of freak?!
Sloane: I don’t think that you’re a monster, Robin! Jude doesn’t!
SCP-8944 buries its head into its knees.
SCP-8944: Yes, she does! She does… you just don’t see it. You do too, I know you do. You’re afraid of me.
Sloane: I’m not afraid of you, Robin, I’m afraid for you! I…
Sloane pauses for a moment before continuing.
Sloane: …I can’t stand seeing you like this, in this state that they’re keeping you in! I don’t want you to get hurt, I just… I want you to be safe.
SCP-8944 slowly leans into the arm of the chair between it and Sloane.
Sloane: I can talk to Simon, I can get him to stop! I know that I can! But if I don’t have anything to give him, he won’t listen to me. He won’t. Wren. Can you tell me anything about where she might be? About what she might be? What she can do? Anything at all? I just want to help, Robin, I just want to…
Sloane trails off. He lowers his forehead to the arm of the chair.
Sloane: …please. I just want to help.
SCP-8944: I… I can’t…
A moment passes.
Sloane: …okay. That’s okay, Robin. We can figure something out. We’ll find another way through this.
Sloane picks up the cup of water from the floor and hands it to SCP-8944. It looks from the cup, to him, and back. It takes the cup and slowly begins to drink. Sloane walks to his chair and sits down. Approximately one minute later, there is a knock at the door.
Sloane: …that’s time.
SCP-8944 stands, sets the empty cup down, and steps toward the door.
SCP-8944: Thank you, Sloane.
Sloane nods.
Sloane: You’re welcome, Robin.
SCP-8944 opens the door. It glances at Jude briefly, then turns away, walking out of the room. She looks at Sloane. He shrugs. She nods and closes the door.
Sloane: …supplemental. This is it. Robin’s inability to utilize his ontokinetic abilities for anything outside of acts of thievery has nothing to do with the limits of his capabilities as a Type Green and everything to do with his secondary anomalous reaction. Robin wasn’t born this way… with burns, and bruises, and cuts appearing on his skin like the world’s worst magic show. No. He became what we see before us through years and years of mental and physical abuse suffered at the hands of his father, the very same man who instilled into him a crippling fear that if he didn’t use his incredible abilities to steal, rob, and thieve, he’d be beaten within an inch of his life… and his sister would be left without her only bastion of salvation.
Sloane pauses for a moment before continuing.
Sloane: The Foundation is no stranger to the unquantifiable ways in which a potent enough reality bender can affect the environment around them at will. But what we rarely discuss… or, perhaps, what we choose to avoid discussing… is how a reality bender’s environment, pre-containment, can affect them. How it can change them, mold them and their abilities in those subtle and invisible ways that our surroundings are apt to do. Robin is, of course, one such example… albeit an extreme one. I just…
Sloane sits in silence for a moment before standing.
Sloane: …I need more time with him. We’re moving too quickly, I… I need more time.
<END LOG>
Test Log #4
Date: 12 / 03 / 2025
Testing Location: Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ
Foreword: During the five day period preceding SCP-8944’s fourth test, it advanced to the late stages of its secondary anomalous reaction. This stage is primarily characterized by significant cuts beginning to manifest on SCP-8944’s body, localized to its forearms, shoulders, and back. However, in common with the previous (and remaining) stages of its secondary anomalous reaction, the cuts may manifest on additional areas of its body, such as its abdomen and legs. The cuts are consistent with lacerations that one would receive from a shard (or multiple) of glass. SCP-8944’s blood alcohol content may increase slightly throughout this stage as well, averaging at approximately 0.04%.
Subject’s Mark: A steel lockbox (equipped with an electronic fingerprint lock)
Experiment: A steel lockbox equipped with an electronic fingerprint lock was placed atop a small table in Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ. SCP-8944 was instructed to steal the contents of the lockbox in no more than one minute.
Conclusion: SCP-8944 began its fourth test by expressing confusion at the instructions that it was given. However, it quickly forwent its confusion following an intense fit of hacking coughs lasting approximately 20 seconds. It slowly moved in front of the lockbox and extended its hand toward it. It closed its uninjured eye and drew in a deep breath. Then, as if plucking something from the air in front of it, a human index finger manifested in its hand, severed just below the proximal interphalangeal joint. SCP-8944 screamed and threw the severed finger away from it. It backed itself into a corner of the exclusion chamber and huddled into the fetal position as the injuries manifested from its secondary anomalous reaction began to heal themselves. Following approximately two minutes of unresponsiveness, SCP-8944 was escorted to its containment chamber from the exclusion chamber by the member of Site-78’s in-house security detail responsible with conducting its post-test searches. Following this test, D-8658 was permitted to visit an on-site Type Red (limited regeneration) employed by the Foundation to regenerate his severed index finger.
Additional Comments: If SCP-8944 is unable to utilize its ontokinetic abilities to steal its desired mark directly, it appears as if said abilities will opt for the action that provides SCP-8944 with the means to accomplish its goal. In this case, those means included the severed index finger of D-8658. SCP-8944 has remained steadfast that it cannot control how its abilities manifest, nor can it control the specific methods that it will employ to provide SCP-8944 with an opportunity for thievery. More testing is required.
Search of SCP-8944 - following Test #4
Contraband Found: N / A
REQUISITION FORM
The following is a formal request to alter the specifications of SCP-8944’s containment, citing increasing psychological turmoil and borderline exploitation of an aspect of the anomaly’s ontokinetic abilities resulting in bodily harm as grounds for drastic alteration.
Submitted By: Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane
Submitted To: Site Director Luce McNaught, Senior Researcher Simon Andvari
Proposal: “Alter SCP-8944’s containment procedures and periods of scheduled testing to the extent that his its mental and physical health and wellbeing is not being placed under such massive strain” (Doctor Sloane).
Status: DENIED
Notes: On account of the restorative effect of SCP-8944’s ontokinetic abilities, testing may continue as scheduled on the discretion of Senior Researcher Andvari.
Re: Don’t fuck with me.
To: Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane
From: Senior Researcher Simon Andvari
Date: 12 / 05 / 2025
Subject: Don’t fuck with me.
You’re lucky that we’ve worked together in the past, Alexander. The well of your didactic wisdom never seems to run dry, does it? Allow me to impart a piece of my own advice. Stay in your lane. I’ll continue gathering data on the anomaly’s capabilities as a Type Green, you just get the thing to talk. If you go to the Site Director, or anyone up the chain of command, behind my back again, I’ll have you taken off of the project. I’m sure that the Ethics Committee would be beyond thrilled to hear that you were dropped from your assignment on reports of insubordination. Consider this strike one and two, Alexander. Tread lightly.
Senior Researcher Simon Andvari.
Addendum - 8944.6: Psychiatric Evaluation, Session #4
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hide Addendum
Interviewed: SCP-8944
Interviewer: Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane
Date: 12 / 09 / 2025
Foreword: SCP-8944’s secondary anomalous reaction has advanced to its limit, as authorized by Foundation personnel to avoid its expiration due to the manifested injuries sustained. On account of its physical state, it requested that this fourth session take place within its containment chamber. Doctor Sloane agreed.
<BEGIN LOG>
The door to SCP-8944’s containment chamber is unlocked and it slides open. Sloane takes a step inside, turning back toward Jude, and lowering his voice.
Sloane: Thank you, Jude. I… I don’t know how long we’ll be. You don’t have to wait outside until we’re finished.
He glances upward at a security camera in the corner of the containment chamber, slowly sweeping back and forth across the room.
Sloane: …wherever you are, I’ll have Wichita send for you.
Jude nods.
Jude: Thank you, Doctor. Good luck.
Jude steps back and the door slides closed. SCP-8944 is lying on its cot, staring up at the ceiling. Fresh gauze and medical tape has been applied to its arms, torso, and legs yet their edges are beginning to stain a light red. Accompanying the small circular burns that litter its body are larger, less uniform patches of burnt skin, marring the bandages that cover their manifestation. One of its eyes is swollen shut with a bruise that stretches down the side of its face. Significant bruising has manifested around its neck and collar bone. The bruising around its neck appears in a pattern consistent with two human hands. Sloane walks to the cot and crouches down next to it. His voice is low, just above a whisper.
Sloane: …Robin?
A moment passes. SCP-8944 turns it head toward Sloane and smiles.
SCP-8944: …hey, man.
Its voice is quiet, croaking. Sloane smiles.
Sloane: Hey, kid.
His smile drops.
Sloane: …it’s okay, Robin. It’s over now. I don’t care how high I have to take this, hell, I’ll go to the Overseers if he makes me. I just can’t… I won’t see you like this. I won’t. Not for one more day.
SCP-8944 slowly shakes its head.
SCP-8944: I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.
Sloane smiles.
Sloane: Thank you, Robin… but you couldn’t stop me if you tried.
SCP-8944 raises a trembling, bandaged hand in front of his face. It looks from Sloane, to its hand, and back.
SCP-8944: …aren’t you worried that I might take your heart out?
Sloane laughs.
Sloane: Of course not, kid. Unless I start talking about my father again, then you have my permission to put me out of my misery, and spare yourself the hours.
SCP-8944 laughs. Its chest slowly rises and falls beneath its containment jumpsuit. Sloane watches as a circular blemish on the medical tape from one of the smaller burns is slowly subsumed by a larger, messier blemish that colors the medical tape a deep gray and singes its edges. SCP-8944 closes its uninjured eye and breathes out a long sigh as the larger patch of burnt skin subsumes the smaller burn. Sloane knits his brow, the corners of his mouth dipping into a small frown. A moment passes.
Sloane: …can I get you anything? Some water, maybe a soda? Anything?
SCP-8944 slowly opens its uninjured eye and shakes its head.
SCP-8944: Anything that’s brought in here has to be approved by Simon first. Otherwise, you’re not allowed to bring it in. Why do you think I get searched every time I walk in?
SCP-8944 smirks. Sloane smiles.
Sloane: Yeah… right.
Another moment passes.
Sloane: …hey. Can I ask you a question?
SCP-8944: Shoot.
Sloane: It’s… an uncomfortable question to ask and, I imagine, an even more uncomfortable question to answer. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, okay?
SCP-8944 stares at Sloane. He clears his throat.
Sloane: Where did you end up putting your father’s heart?
SCP-8944 turns its head away from Sloane and sighs.
SCP-8944: Does it matter?
Sloane: It might. It might not. But the more information that I can bring to Simon, the better.
SCP-8944 does not respond. Sloane hesitantly extends a hand and gently places it on its shoulder.
Sloane: …hey. Are you alright, kid? Like I said, if it’s too much, we don’t have to talk about it.
SCP-8944 slowly turns its head back toward Sloane.
SCP-8944: No, it’s fine… it should be fine, at least. And at this point, I don’t care. There was this spot in my father’s bedroom where you could pop up the floorboards with a crowbar or something. He used to stash a getaway bag there in case he ever bit off more than he could chew, did something that no amount of money could fix. I panicked and threw it down there just before the cops came.
Sloane: Thank you for sharing that with me, Robin.
He hums to himself.
Sloane: Under the floorboards, huh? You never struck me as a reader of Poe.
SCP-8944 tilts its head.
SCP-8944: …Poe?
Sloane: Edgar Allan, the very same. You know, “Quoth the Raven,” and all that? The Tell-Tale Heart? …no? Never mind, forget I said anything.
SCP-8944 smiles and shrugs. Another moment passes.
Sloane: …hey.
SCP-8944: You can just ask me whatever questions you have, it’s fine.
Sloane: Am I really that easy to read?
SCP-8944: You’re easier to read than Poe, that’s for sure.
Sloane gasps.
Sloane: You did know what I was talking about!
SCP-8944 chokes out a strangled laugh.
SCP-8944: I went to an American high school, Sloane. I know who Edgar Allan Poe is. Fire away, man.
Sloane: I just… I wanted to know if you were feeling up to sharing anything about Wren.
SCP-8944 knits its brow, looking away from Sloane.
SCP-8944: Sloane…
SCP-8944 trails off. Sloane leans forward.
Sloane: No. You know what? No, I’m done. I won’t allow you to continue to torture yourself like this when you have more power over putting an end to it than I do! What is it going to take, Robin? Can I swear under oath that I won’t allow any harm to befall her? Will that do it? Will that get you to start taking care of yourself? Will it get you to start looking out for yourself? Will you start to think of yourself, think of your own health and well-being? Will it? Because if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.
SCP-8944 does not respond. Sloane sighs and rakes a hand through his hair.
Sloane: …you have to look at this from our perspective, kid. For all we know, Wren could be—
A strangled growl tears its way from SCP-8944’s throat as it sits up, leaning back onto its elbows for support.
SCP-8944: Don’t say another goddamn word—
SCP-8944 quickly spirals into an intense fit of coughing. A strand of saliva mixed with blood drips from its mouth. Sloane retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and raises it toward SCP-8944 but it clumsily pushes his hand away, swiping the back of its own hand across its mouth.
Sloane: I’m so sorry, I… I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean to upset you. But… you have to talk to me, Robin. It’s what I’m here for, remember? If I request for Simon to slow your testing again, he’s going to send me away. And it would be exponentially more difficult for me to help if I’m not here.
SCP-8944 slowly lies back down with a grunt. It stares at Sloane.
SCP-8944: …you really asked them to stop?
A moment passes. SCP-8944 turns its gaze upward and stares at the ceiling of its containment chamber.
SCP-8944: I… I can’t tell you where she is…
It draws in a long and shaky breath.
SCP-8944: …because I don’t know.
Sloane: …what?
Tears begin to gather at the corners of SCP-8944’s eyes.
SCP-8944: I don’t know where she is. I don’t know.
Sloane does not respond. A moment passes. SCP-8944 continues.
SCP-8944: Growing up, Wren and I had a few spots around our neighborhood that only we knew about, places we could go during the day to get away from… everything. Our father never gave a shit where we were so long as we were at his beck and call when he needed us… when he needed me, most of the time. When Wren and I were down in the alleyway, I told her to go to one of our spots, any one, and that I’d meet her there as soon as I shook the cops. I… I didn’t know what we’d do from there but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting away. I lost them a few blocks from our apartment, laid low for an hour or two, and went back out at night. I checked every spot… I checked them all twice… she wasn’t there. I checked them every day for a week. Nothing. I… I’d been neglecting myself. Without my father around, I hadn’t been stealing nearly as much, if at all. The injuries started to pile up. It got… bad. In a weird way, I guess that I was better off with him around…
It chokes out a humorless laugh.
SCP-8944: …that’s when I tried to swipe something from Wichita and ended up here.
Sloane does not respond. SCP-8944 sits up again, leaning back onto its elbows.
SCP-8944: …but she’s alive, Sloane. I don’t know how to explain it but I know that she is, I… I can feel it all around me.
SCP-8944 gestures aimlessly to the air in front of it.
Sloane: …then help us find her, Robin. Help us find her and bring you two back together!
SCP-8944: I can’t trust you with her. Not you, just… you. I can’t.
Sloane: But what other option do either of us have outside of cooperation? Either we help each other or—
SCP-8944 interrupts.
SCP-8944: Or what? Either we cooperate or what, Sloane? What choices do I fucking have?! I lie awake every night in this… this glorified cage knowing that she’s all alone out there and that I might never… that she might never know what happened to me? Or… what? I help you and Simon track her down, she swaps one nightmare for another, and gets tested on like some—some—some fucking lab rat for the rest of her goddamn life?!
Sloane does not respond.
SCP-8944: But it’s okay because at least we’d be in hell together, right? God… at least we’d be in hell together…
Sloane: That won’t happen, Robin.
SCP-8944: …how can you know that? I mean, really, how can you know that for sure?
Sloane leans forward.
Sloane: Because I won’t let it happen. We have rules here, Robin, regulations, checks and balances! We have an entire committee of people who are exclusively dedicated to ensuring that the powers at be don’t overstep their bounds! But… forget all of that for a second. You don’t trust our Foundation, why would you? You’re not going to put your faith in us to make sure that you’re reunited with your sister and that both of you are treated as decent people should be and I don’t blame you. So, don’t put your faith in the Foundation. Put your faith in me. Believe that I’ll do right by you, that I’ll take care of you, both of you! But if you can’t… that’s fine, too. I wouldn’t blame you an ounce. We can continue our sessions just like this, like none of this ever happened. But… I can’t see you brutalized like this over and over again. I won’t. This isn’t why I joined the Foundation. This isn’t what I stand for, it isn’t what we stand for! I’ll figure something out, I just… I don’t know…
Sloane sighs. He pushes his glasses up to his forehead and rubs his eyes. A moment passes. When SCP-8944 speaks, its voice is barely above a whisper.
SCP-8944: …she’s alive. She’s out there somewhere, she has to be. No… I know that she is. I can feel it! I couldn’t protect her then… but I know that I can now!
Sloane: …who’s going to protect you, kid?
SCP-8944 locks eyes with Sloane.
SCP-8944: I’m going to find her… I’m going to find her.
Sloane: We’re going to find her, Robin. Together. Together.
SCP-8944 raises one of its bandaged hands, its pinky finger extended.
SCP-8944: Promise me.
Sloane: …what?
SCP-8944: Promise me that if I help you find her, you’ll be true to your word. Promise me that she’ll be taken care of. Promise me that she’ll be treated right.
Sloane raises his hand, pinky finger extended, and hooks it around SCP-8944’s own.
Sloane: I promise, Robin.
SCP-8944 quickly grabs Sloane’s hand and pulls him closer. Its voice is akin to a low growl.
SCP-8944: SWEAR TO ME.
Sloane: I—I swear! I swear!
SCP-8944 holds eye contact with Sloane for several more seconds before slowly releasing his hand and lying back down.
SCP-8944: …okay. Fine. I’ll talk to Simon. I’ll tell him about Wren, about our spots… everything that I know. Anything that could help.
Sloane exhales a sigh of relief and flashes a toothy grin.
Sloane: I’m really happy to hear that, Robin. I promise you, you won’t regret this.
SCP-8944 meets Sloane’s gaze and returns his smiles with one of its own.
SCP-8944: No… I don’t think that I will either.
SCP-8944 interrupts itself with a small yawn. It slides its arm beneath its pillow as it shifts onto its side.
SCP-8944: I’d just… like to get a bit more sleep if that’s alright. I have another test later today and I… I have a lot to think about.
Sloane stands and takes a step back from the cot.
Sloane: Of course, Robin. Let Jude know if you need me for anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you for our next session.
SCP-8944 hums in response, its eyes slowly closing.
SCP-8944: Mhm… sure…
Sloane looks upward at the security camera in the corner of the room and flashes it a thumbs up. He walks back to the door of SCP-8944’s containment chamber. He turns toward SCP-8944, resting in its cot, and smiles. Several minutes later, the door to the containment chamber slides open, and Sloane steps out. The door slides closed behind him.
<END LOG>
Test Log #5
Date: 12 / 09 / 2025
Testing Location: Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ
Foreword: During the six day period preceding SCP-8944’s fifth test, it advanced to the authorized limit of its secondary anomalous reaction. Due to the severity of its condition upon reaching this limit, its secondary anomalous reaction is not to be permitted to advance for risk of the anomaly’s expiration. At the time of this test, its manifested injuries / ailments included the following:
- Small circular marks consistent with standard burns that one would receive from a lit cigarette
- Large, less uniform areas of burnt skin consistent with burns that one would receive from holding their skin over an open flame
- It is the professional opinion of one of Site-78’s on-site medics that burns of this variety are more often than not self-inflicted
- Frequent and intense bruising
- Frequent and intense lacerations
- Accompanied by a blood alcohol content of approximately 0.045%
- One instance of periorbital hematoma (colloquially known as black eyes)
- Significant bruising on the neck and collar bone, severely inhibiting SCP-8944’s ability to breathe and speak. The shape of the bruising appears in a pattern consistent with two human hands, although no fingerprints nor epithelial DNA could be recovered
Subject’s Mark: A steel box possessing thaumaturgically enhanced durability
Experiment: SCP-8944 was escorted to Exclusion Chamber 78-Φ in a wheelchair. Once inside of the exclusion chamber, it appeared to experience severe difficulty with gathering the strength necessary to stand upright. It required assistance from its surroundings in order to stand. The front of its containment jumpsuit was coated in a mixture of saliva, blood, and vomit matter. Immediately following this test, it was provided with a clean containment jumpsuit. A steel box possessing no discernible method of accessing its contents (padlock, combination lock, electronic lock, etc…) was placed atop a table in the exclusion chamber. Preceding this test, the steel utilized during the box’s construction was thaumaturgically altered to enhance its durability. Following the box’s construction, it was determined by a researcher within the Foundation’s Department of Geology that the steel utilized, if properly tested, would score a theoretical 18 on the Mohs Hardness Scale. SCP-8944 was instructed to steal the contents of the box. No time constraint was implemented.
Conclusion: Upon being given its instructions, SCP-8944 drew in a wheezing breath, and spit up a glob of saliva and blood onto the floor of the exclusion chamber. It extended an arm toward the steel box, the fingers of its hand splayed. In an instant, the box appeared to explode, tearing itself apart. Pieces of steel shrapnel shot from the box, embedding themselves into the walls of the exclusion chamber. Strips of steel were peeled and wrenched back, curling and spiraling into themselves like the petals of a blooming flower. The remainder of the box’s original construction was utterly crushed, split open, dissected, pried apart, stolen from. SCP-8944 openly wept as the injuries manifested from its secondary anomalous reaction began to heal themselves. Inside of the steel box was a small key. SCP-8944 picked up the key with a trembling hand, laughed, and dropped it onto the floor. It walked to the wheelchair, sat down with its arms crossed, and waited to be escorted back to its containment chamber.
Additional Comments: Moon and I were right. This test has confirmed everything that we have been theorizing. The feat that SCP-8944 has managed to accomplish today far surpasses anything that we had previously thought it capable of. This confirms the relationship hypothesized by our effort to extremity ratio. The more pain that it is experiencing, the more potent its abilities become, and the less effort it is required to spend to achieve its desired end. This changes things. More testing is required, much more testing.
Search of SCP-8944 - following Test #5
Contraband Found: A small shard of thaumaturgically enhanced steel shrapnel.
Interlude: Written in Ink
Alexander Claudius Sloane was kicked out of his home by his mother when he was 16 years old.
Alexander bounced from couch to couch for a while before landing with distant relatives a few states over. While living with the family of his second cousin, he conquered an addiction to oxycodone that had grown inside of him like a parasite, slowly commanding more and more of his attention, more and more of his energy, his strength. He had been involved in an accident when he was 14 years old, you see, and required the painkiller in order to dull the constant ache pulsing from his shattered ribs and broken leg. His mother was fine, though, don’t worry. The driver’s side airbag released without issue.
Alexander received his GED diploma when he was 20 years old. He applied to the farthest community college in the state and was accepted, even being offered a merit scholarship for showing promise in the writing field. When deciding what to study, he landed on psychology because he thought that it would be his easiest path to receiving a doctorate and, therefore, making the big bucks. He also liked the idea of people referring to him as “Doctor Sloane” very much. And, well, when it came down to a coin toss between psychology and business, he trusted the coin to make the right decision more than he trusted himself.
Alexander graduated, gathered all of his earthly possessions into the second row and trunk of his clunker sedan, and moved to a nearby city. He signed a lease on a small apartment and managed to pay rent for the first few months with cash that he’d been saving since he was a child. His job hunt came to end when he was offered a position at a local psychiatric clinic, where he would work alongside two additional licensed therapists. This was it, the start of something beautiful. It was all going to be downhill from here, in the sense that walking down a hill is easier than climbing up one.
Alexander’s first client was a young woman who was three months into the first semester of her freshman year at the Ivy League university whose acceptance she had committed to. She expressed to him that she felt as if she didn’t belong, as if everyone around her was deserving of their presence while her own must’ve been a cosmic fluke. Her academic performance had seen a substantial decline from what her father had come to consider average and her social life appeared entirely nonexistent. He met with her for just shy of one year as they discussed her feelings of inadequacy. He had always detested talking to doctors and strived to cultivate a less interrogative, more casual atmosphere amongst his clientele. Toward the end of their time together, they even began to see each other as friends of a sort. In fact, to this day, he still has dinner with her family whenever the opportunity arises. She’s a good kid, a smart kid, even graduating Cum Laude, or so he’d heard.
Alexander was approached by the young woman’s father when their time together had finally come to an end. The father was beyond thrilled with the progress that his daughter had made over the past year and exceedingly appreciative of Alexander for his assistance. The father asked Alexander if he would be interested in a potential job opportunity, claiming that the foundation at which he worked as a Senior Researcher was currently hiring within their Ethics Committee. Alexander, in turn, asked the father how much money he would be making in a polite sort of way that beat so far around the bush as to miss the forest entirely. The father threw out an estimate given Alexander’s age and the position that he would be applying for. Alexander immediately accepted and was hired two weeks later, due in no small part to the father’s glowing recommendation. Or so he’d heard.
All of Alexander’s colleagues were brilliant. He deeply admired their ability to build upon the foundations of their knowledge in pursuit of an understanding of the Pandora’s Box of esoterica that was opened to him. Each one of them had been brilliant prior to joining the Foundation and their excited willingness to toss facts and information that they’d previously taken as gospel out the window to achieve a higher understanding of the reality around them was inspiring. They were so amazing, so adaptable, while Alexander’s own job remained wholly unchanged from its civilian counterpart. He was still just a therapist. A shrink. He had zero excuses for not excelling in a position that he knew so well, not while everyone around him excelled, thrived despite the foundations of their own respective fields crumbling to dust with the introduction of the anomalous. Alexander had to excel. He had to be the best psychiatrist in his department, in the Foundation, on the planet. He would be.
Alexander Claudius Sloane felt as if he did not belong.
Foundation-sanctioned psychiatrist Alexander Sloane walked out of the containment chamber feeling much lighter than he’d felt when he entered just an hour earlier. Of course, despite feeling as if the weight of a 120 pound (soaking wet) young man had been lifted from his shoulders, Doctor Sloane knew that there was virtually zero chance of him catching even one wink of sleep. In fact, he hadn’t been getting much sleep at all as of late. Each night, as he lied down and closed his eyes, rather than counting sheep jumping over a fencepost, he’d himself counting how many burns he was able to see scattered across Robin’s body during their latest session, despite nearly his entire body being wrapped in blood-stained bandages. Every time he closed his eyes, all that he could make out in that choking blackness was the aging purple-yellow of the bruises on his legs, the torn flesh at the corner of his mouth, monsters with long tentacles and snapping beaks, the kind you’d only find at the bottom of a bottle. But today, that was alright with Doctor Sloane. What were a few more sleepless nights? He had finally stood up for the kid, stood up for himself. Doing instead of just saying. Forget sheep jumping over fenceposts, he had enough spring in his step to leap over a building.
Doctor Sloane flashed a toothy grin at Jude as he exited the containment chamber, adjusted his glasses, and thanked her for her help. He said that he’d see her soon and she nodded. She was a woman of few words, that much he’d picked up on. Although, now that he thought about it, not many of his colleagues outside of the Ethics Committee ever made a real effort to go out of their way and talk to him. If he had to guess, it’s because of his position as a psychiatrist within the Foundation. The most interesting thing about him is the fact that he conducts psychiatric evaluations with the people in containment but he can’t break doctor-patient confidentiality, not with those who have nothing to do with each respective client. And if he can’t discuss work at the water cooler, he supposes that he understands why his colleagues keep their distance. He guesses that it may be difficult for people to talk to psychiatrists without feeling as if they’re being analyzed themselves, regardless of the setting. He guesses that it’s difficult to ignore the buzz on the back of your neck, the quiet voice in your head telling you to watch what you say around him. One minute, you’re talking about how stressed you are, or about a new project that you were assigned to, or about a strange dream that you had. And the next, you’re on a mandatory mental health leave of absence, or you’re psychologically unfit to do your job, or you’ve been infected by a cognitohazardous tarot deck that makes you dream about your own death. Like he said, he supposes that he understands. But not even those thoughts could dampen his mood as he walked the hallways of Site-78, humming the tune of a song that he can’t quite remember the name of.
When Doctor Sloane arrived back at his office, he grabbed his notebook from atop his chair, and sat down at his desk to jot down some quick notes about the session. This was a little post-session ritual that he’d gotten into the habit of doing after allowing himself some time (in this case, the walk from Robin’s containment chamber to his office) to process what he and his client had discussed. His notes would often vary. They might be about what progress was made (or ground lost) regarding what topics, how his clients had been behaving, what he could improve upon regarding his own approach. And, if nothing came to mind on any given day, what he’d enjoyed about the session. This was not one of those days. He found that he had much to write about regarding his most recent session with Robin, much indeed. He peeled back the softcover of the notebook, turned to the most recent page, and was settling in his seat to write when something unusual happened. Doctor Sloane had the first bullet point all written out in his head, he could practically see the ink on the page. But when he gently grasped at the breast pocket of his coat…
…his fountain pen wasn’t there.
Addendum - 8944.7: Containment Breach
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hide Addendum
Surveillance Footage Transcript
Date: 12 / 10 / 2025
Foreword: At approximately 3:35 a.m. on the morning of December 10th, 2025, a motion sensor within SCP-8944’s containment chamber alerted all relevant Foundation personnel to an instance of increased movement within the containment chamber, irregular from the anomaly’s previously observed patterns of sleep. Agent Wichita was first to notify that she had received the alert, logging into a Foundation administered tablet to check the live surveillance footage from within SCP-8944’s containment chamber.
<BEGIN LOG>
SCP-8944 has been healed of all injuries sustained from its secondary anomalous reaction on account of the test that was conducted the previous day. It’s pacing in meandering loops around its containment chamber, drawing in deep breaths. Its hands are trembling at its sides. When it speaks, its voice is a hushed yet urgent whisper. Wichita watches closely.
SCP-8944: …it’s alright, it’s going to be fine. Come on, man, you got this… you got this! You’ve been through worse, this is nothing!
It stops for a moment.
SCP-8944: …fuck.
It continues to pace before walking to its cot and sitting down.
SCP-8944: …alright. Alright. For Wren.
It reaches beneath its pillow and retrieves Sloane’s fountain pen. Wichita narrows her eyes at the tablet and moves it closer to her face.
Wichita: …what the fuck?
SCP-8944 draws in a deep breath. One of its legs is bouncing. Its hands are trembling.
SCP-8944: For Wren. She needs you, man… she needs her brother. For Wren. For Wren.
It bites down onto the cap of the fountain pen and pulls it off, spitting it onto the floor of its containment chamber. It wraps a hand around the pen. It draws in a deep breath, then another, and a third. And with a steady hand, it drives the pen’s tip into its left eye. It screams.
Wichita: WHAT THE FUCK?!
Wichita immediately grabs a nearby handheld transceiver, switches its channel, and presses the push-to-talk button.
Wichita: J—JUDE?! Damn it, Jude, pick up your goddamn radio!
Wichita sprints out of her makeshift quarters within Site-78, tablet in one hand and transceiver in the other, moving toward SCP-8944’s containment chamber. She looks down at the tablet as she runs, taps the screen in a practiced sequence, and an alarm begins to blare throughout Site-78. She raises the transceiver to her mouth.
Wichita: Listen, I need you to—no, just—JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME. I need you to get your ass to 8944’s containment chamber! NOW.
Wichita releases the push-to-talk button, stuffs the transceiver into her pocket, and continues to sprint. On the surveillance footage, SCP-8944’s screams continue to tear their way through its grit teeth as it rips the pen from its head, throwing it onto the cot. Bits and clumps of shredded cornea, retina, and muscle are scattered throughout the room as blood begins to mix with its eye’s leaking aqueous humor. The pen is drenched in blood, its hand is drenched in blood, and blood is pouring down its face, trailing crimson streaks alongside its flowing tears. It reaches aimlessly around itself for something, anything to grab hold of. It raises the comforter atop the cot to its mouth and bites down, screaming into the fabric as it sinks to its knees. It smashes a fist into the floor of its containment chamber over, and over, and over again until its knuckles are torn and more blood spots the floor, dripping from its balled hand. Its choked screams begin to spiral into manic laughter as it stands, rips the pillowcase from the pillow atop the cot, and holds it against its mangled eye.
SCP-8944: …so fucking smart, you all think you’re so fucking smart…
The blood leaking from its fresh wound begins to soak into the pillowcase. It growls through grit teeth, its jaw set.
SCP-8944: Fuck you. You can go to hell.
SCP-8944 turns toward the wall of its containment chamber that sits across from the mechanical door. It extends an arm outward, toward the wall, the fingers of its hands splayed. The containment chamber slowly begins to tremble, its foundations dissolving into cosmic dust as the fibers of its reality are meticulously shorn, thread by thread. A small crack splits open on the wall. The containment chamber—no, the world itself seems to be drawn toward SCP-8944, its head alight with sharp, burning agony. The crack grows, opening a fissure in the wall, a wound marring the flesh of reality. Dirt, and leaves, and snow, and moonlight filter in through the fissure. Roots sprout from the earth and claw at the fissure with wooden digits, prying the wound open in a desperate effort to reach the paragon of its attraction, the being that draws it so. Outside becomes inside where dirt blurs into concrete in a deft brushstroke of will. Moonlight blends into fluorescent and the fissure grows. The wall cracks and crumbles, collapsing in onto itself like a star in supernova. The fissure has been opened. Nature meets the unnatural at the precipice as snow gently drifts into the containment chamber. Immediately following the fissure’s creation, several minor injuries on SCP-8944’s body sustained from its secondary anomalous reaction begin to heal themselves. But its eye is still gone, a sacrifice to the containment gods, and blood slowly soaks into the pillowcase. It shuffles toward the fissure but pauses right at the cusp. It turns, glances at the security camera through its one eye, and smiles. The blood dripping down its face pours into the wound on its mouth, filling the grooves of its teeth with a crimson red.
SCP-8944: …thanks, Doc.
The surveillance footage captures a snow-kissed forest floor and trunks of large pine trees. SCP-8944 draws in a shuddering breath. It steps onto the liminal between its containment chamber at the forest outside of Site-78. It crosses the threshold, stepping from smooth stone to dirt and dead grass, and vanishes from the security camera’s view. Wichita watches it exit the security camera’s frame and curses, running faster toward the containment chamber. She holds down the push-to-talk button on her transceiver.
Wichita: Jude. Forget what I just said. Get three of your best, gear up, and meet me here as soon as humanly possible.
She releases the push-to-talk button. She arrives at the containment chamber and quickly opens the door, moving inside. She stares at the fissure in awe, at its desperation, its violence, the way the forest’s earth and stone floor melt into one another at its seam.
Wichita: What in God’s name…
The door to the containment chamber slides open. Researcher Moon immediately walks toward the fissure, Doctor Sloane drops a hand to his knee and swipes the back of the other across his forehead, and Senior Researcher Andvari leans back against a nearby wall and draws in several deep breaths. Sloane looks toward Wichita, speaking between gasping breaths.
Sloane: We heard… the alarm! We came as quick as we could… after realizing that it was for Robin’s containment chamber!
Moon: What happened here?
Wichita: There’ll be time for you to watch the surveillance footage later. You want the bullet points? 8944 just breached.
Andvari steps away from the wall and rakes a hand through his hair.
Andvari: Oh God… what the fuck happened?!
Sloane’s gaze drifts to the trail of dripped blood leading beyond the fissure. His voice is barely above a whisper.
Sloane: Oh no… no, no, no…
He immediately steps in front of Wichita.
Sloane: Is Robin alright?! You saw him, didn’t you? You saw him on the surveillance footage with your own two eyes? Is he okay?! What happened?!
Wichita crosses her arms.
Wichita: No. It’s not okay.
Sloane visibly deflates. His shoulders sag and he turns his gaze downward. Moon hums to himself and continues examining the fissure.
Moon: This… cannot possibly be good.
Andvari: Yeah? Is that your professional opinion, Cassidy? Are these the sort of groundbreaking conclusions that I’m paying you to reach?
Moon clears his throat.
Moon: You don’t pay me, Simon. The Foundation does.
Andvari steps toward Moon.
Andvari: Semantics, Cassidy, semantics. You know, you can have quite the mouth on you sometimes—
Sloane steps between Moon and Andvari, turning toward the former.
Sloane: Hey, come on. Quit bickering. It’s not his fault that this happened.
Wichita: No. It certainly isn’t.
Andvari, Moon, and Sloane turn toward Wichita. She’s standing next to the cot and holding Sloane’s freshly gored fountain pen. Sloane narrows his eyes.
Sloane: What is… that…
A moment passes. He taps the breast pocket of his coat, as if on instinct, finding it empty. He chokes out a humorless laugh, his hands frantically digging into each and every one of his pockets. But they come out empty.
Sloane: No way, there’s… there’s no way! When did he—how did he—
Andvari turns toward Sloane, his teeth grit.
Andvari: You… you—you—you—
Moon: Use your words, Simon.
Andvari’s head whips between facing Moon and Sloane.
Andvari: …words? You want me to use my words?! Words can’t even begin to describe—
Sloane steps toward Wichita. He can barely speak, finding every syllable caught in his throat.
Sloane: …W—Where did he…
The question goes unfinished. Wichita sticks out her thumb and points it at her face.
Wichita: Right into its—
Sloane moves toward a small trash can in the corner of the room, tripping over himself as he falls to his knees, and vomits.
Andvari: Christ almighty… would you please just give me a break?! What is it, Alexander? Are you sad that the anomaly hurt itself? Or maybe your guilty conscience at giving it the keys to the fucking castle is finally catching up with you? You know, none of this would’ve happened if you’d just followed protocol, and didn’t acquiesce to a psych eval inside of its goddamn containment chamber!
Wichita steps forward and places a hand on Andvari’s shoulder.
Wichita: Simon. Reprimands can wait. We have more pressing matters to attend to.
Andvari puffs out several more ragged breaths before beginning to settle.
Andvari: Right, you’re… you’re right. Why don’t you get a team together and—
The door to the containment chamber slides open. Jude rushes inside, trailed by three additional members of Site-78’s in-house security detail. Wichita nods at them and gestures to the fissure.
Wichita: I trust that Jude has briefed you all regarding our current situation. Go out and start the search. Begin to establish a perimeter within a two mile radius of Site-78. It’s injured, it couldn’t have gotten far. I’m right behind you.
Jude nods and looks back at the three behind her, who each nod in kind.
Jude: Come on, let’s move.
The four agents run through the fissure, disappearing into the forest beyond. Andvari clears his throat.
Andvari: …right. Good work.
Wichita nods, quickly backpedaling toward the fissure.
Wichita: One of you, I don’t care which, keep a radio handy. I’ll call into channel two if we find anything.
She turns and runs through the fissure, disappearing into the forest beyond. Sloane clumsily turns over, sitting on the floor with his back against a wall. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth and hangs his head.
Sloane: …I don’t understand. I don’t understand!
Andvari sighs and crosses his arms.
Andvari: What don’t you understand, Alexander?
Sloane: The reality anchors. Why didn’t they stop him from using his abilities? And on top of that, why didn’t his injuries heal themselves afterward? With the state that he was in, there is zero chance that I wouldn’t have noticed.
Andvari leans his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose.
Andvari: Damn it, Alexander, it’s because it didn’t use its abilities! If I had to guess, it swiped the pen from you normally while you were distracted.
Sloane’s gaze softens, his eyes unfocused. He sniffs and rubs his eyes.
Sloane: Huh… ain’t that a bitch?
Andvari: I have to go make some calls in preparation for the calls that I’m going to have to answer. You two—
Andvari points two extended fingers at Moon and Sloane.
Andvari: —just… be on standby. We’ll debrief when Wichita gets back.
He shifts his full attention onto Sloane.
Andvari: …and try not to give any other anomalies a means of breaching containment while I’m gone. The Ethics Committee will hear about this, Alexander. It’s just a shame that I suspect they’ll be much more lenient with you than my superiors will be with me.
Andvari moves toward the door. As he passes the cot, he plucks Sloane’s fountain pen from it, flicking excess blood onto the floor. The door slides open.
Sloane: You asked me what was wrong earlier.
Andvari stops in the doorway. He doesn’t move.
Sloane: …you’re right.
He chuckles.
Sloane: God, you’re always right, aren’t you? That must be nice.
He pauses for a moment before continuing.
Sloane: I shouldn’t have held our last psych eval in here. It was against protocol, I should’ve ran the idea past you first, whatever. I shouldn’t have done it. But…
He pauses again.
Sloane: I just…
He looks up at Andvari’s back and shrugs, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
Sloane: I didn’t want him to be in any more pain. I didn’t want him to hurt. I’m sorry.
An eternity seems to pass in a moment before Andvari exits the containment chamber without a word, the door sliding closed behind him. Sloane sighs and rakes a hand through his hair.
Sloane: Shit…
Moon turns back toward the fissure, appearing spellbound by its very existence.
Moon: I don’t understand… I can’t understand how this happened.
Sloane chokes out a laugh.
Sloane: Not you too, kid. What’s there not to understand?
Moon: After so many tests, after…
Moon pauses for a moment before continuing.
Moon: …after so much pain. I just thought that we’d finally nailed down how its ontokinetic abilities functioned.
Sloane: How do you mean?
Moon extends both arms and gestures around them, turning to face Sloane.
Moon: 8944 had never shown any signs that it could alter physical space by way of its ontokinetic abilities. The Hume levels that we recorded during its tests were entirely average when compared against a larger pool of Class-I Type Green entities currently in containment. And on top of that, according to the UIU’s report form, our own observations, and its own accounts, it should’ve only been capable of utilizing its abilities to steal things… and I know, I know that we should take what the anomaly claims with a grain of salt. But this? There’s no way that it could’ve hidden something like this from us. There’s no way.
Sloane chuckles to himself.
Sloane: You’re new, right?
Moon shrugs.
Moon: Relatively speaking, I suppose. I’ve been with the Foundation for… just under two years by now.
Sloane nods.
Sloane: Happy early anniversary, then. Let this experience be a cornerstone of your, hopefully, long career… knock on wood.
He raps his knuckles on the trash can and a metallic CLANG echoes throughout the containment chamber.
Sloane: …it’s the thought that counts. Anyway, let this teach you a valuable lesson. Right now, you’re looking at things from a binary perspective. Ones or zeros, X or Y, right or wrong, and so on. You’ll quickly realize that rarely, and I mean almost never, is something that the Foundation encounters black and white.
He gestures aimlessly in the fissure’s direction. Moon looks from him, to it, and back.
Moon: …I’m sorry, I don’t understand.
Sloane smiles.
Sloane: Don’t apologize. You were right. Robin can exclusively utilize his abilities to steal things. We all just underestimated him. He used the unimaginable pain of… what he did… like fuel, feeding the potency of his ontokinetic abilities like a cigarette catching some dry brush and turning a spark into an inferno. Do you understand? Robin’s containment breach was a theft. He couldn’t escape, so he stole his freedom. He stole the outside world into his containment chamber.
Moon chokes out an appalled laugh.
Moon: But that… no, that—that—I mean… the level of reality bending that that would take is—is—is—
His own rant is cut off by a yawn. Sloane slowly stands, steps toward him, and places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Sloane: Get some sleep, Cassidy. I’ll deal with Simon and Wichita for the time being.
Moon rubs one eye with the back of his hand.
Moon: Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.
Sloane: I’m sure. Go on. I’ll get you when he’s ready for us.
Moon: …alright.
Moon walks across the containment chamber, toward the door, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he exits.
Moon: …see you later, Mr. Sloane.
Sloane smiles and returns the wave before turning back toward the fissure. He walks to SCP-8944’s abandoned cot and sits down, his eyes never leaving the fissure. A veil of snowfall slowly drifts into the containment chamber, turning drops of crimson blood a bleary pink.
<END LOG>
BY ORDER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL
This file now requires Clearance Level 3, Confidential (CF). Unauthorized access is strictly forbidden.
SCP-8944
Item#: 8944
Level3
Containment Class:
keter
Secondary Class:
uncontained
Disruption Class:
keneq
Risk Class:
danger
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8944 is not currently in containment. Any and all information regarding the whereabouts of SCP-8944 and / or its sibling are to be reported directly to Senior Researcher Simon Andvari.
Description: SCP-8944 is a Class-III Type Green entity possessing exceedingly potent ontokinetic abilities which it is capable of utilizing exclusively to engage in varying forms of thievery. The degree to which SCP-8944 is capable of manipulating localized reality shares a positive correlation to the degree of physical pain that it is experiencing. The upper limit of SCP-8944’s capabilities as a Type Green entity are currently unknown.
Addendum - 8944.8: Debrief
Hide Addendum
Debrief Log Transcript
Date: 12 / 10 / 2025
Foreword: The morning following SCP-8944’s containment breach, Senior Researcher Andvari called for a meeting with Doctor Sloane, Researcher Moon, and Agent Wichita. This meeting was held within one of Site-78's staff lounges.
<BEGIN LOG>
Wichita enters the room. Andvari is pacing around the room, Moon is standing in place, and Sloane is sitting on a nearby couch. Andvari whips toward her as she enters the room, pointing to the door.
Andvari: Lock it.
Wichita nods, locking the door, and joining the others further into the room.
Andvari: Due to your radio silence, I’m going to wager a guess that you didn’t recover the anomaly?
Wichita shakes her head.
Wichita: No. We didn’t just not find it… we couldn’t even find a trace of it.
Andvari sighs and buries his head into his hands.
Andvari: …this is perfect. Fucking perfect. I have a meeting with McNaught and The Warden later today and I have nothing to give them, nothing to stop the axe from falling!
Sloane sits up and leans forward.
Sloane: Simon, why would the Site Director and the Overseers be angry with you? This was my fault and it’s only right that I fall on my sword for it. None of you deserve to be punished for my mistake.
Andvari shakes his head.
Andvari: A noble gesture, I suppose, but ultimately a pointless one. Even if you went to McNaught or, God forbid, the Overseers and took responsibility for the containment breach, the blame would still fall onto me. You’re a glorified shrink, Sloane.
Sloane frowns.
Andvari: I was assigned project lead, I was the one who brought you on board in the first place. And they’re not angry because I enlisted your help, they’re angry because one of the most potentially dangerous reality benders this side of Abaddon escaped from containment under my watch.
Sloane looks toward Moon, raises an eyebrow, and mouths the word “Abaddon?” Moon shrugs. Andvari sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
Andvari: Just… just don’t question me right now, alright?
Moon clears his throat.
Moon: Simon? I’m starting to put together a theory as to why I think we won’t find 8944 anywhere near Site-78.
Andvari nods.
Andvari: …alright. Let’s hear it.
Moon: Well, I don’t think that the hole it created in the wall of its containment chamber is just… you know, an ordinary, everyday hole in the wall.
Andvari: …mhm.
He continues.
Moon: We know that 8944 is incapable of utilizing its ontokinetic abilities to alter its surrounding environment. So, with that in mind, it must have breached by physically “stealing” the forest outside of Site-78, bringing the outside world to it, and allowing it to escape.
He glances toward Sloane, who smiles and nods.
Moon: 8944’s potency as a reality bender, taken at face value and with all relevant stipulations to said ontokinetic abilities in mind, are nowhere near unordinary when compared against the standard deviation of Hume levels recorded during tests of the Foundation’s larger pool of Class-I Type Green entities currently in containment. However, what distinguishes 8944 in particular from that larger pool is the extraordinary degree to which its Hume level is capable of fluctuating, due to the unique secondary anomalous reaction that was imprinted upon it.
He pauses for a moment before continuing.
Moon: The relationship between 8944’s primary ontokinetic abilities and its secondary anomalous reaction is simple: the more pain that it is in, the greater degree of reality bending that it is capable of. As we know, it was able to breach containment by utilizing the self-inflicted pain of impaling its eye with Doctor Sloane’s pen.
Sloane casts his gaze downward.
Moon: But how can we quantify pain? The human body can be dealt an unimaginable amount of pain before death is permitted to occur. So, that begs the question… if death is the definitive limit to the amount of pain that 8944 can be subjected to, what is the limit to how powerful its reality bending can become in tandem with its experienced pain and prior to its death?
Andvari: …okay. Go on.
Moon: This unknown ceiling, this X factor, is what makes 8944 such a potentially dangerous anomaly. So, to what degree did the pain of stabbing its eye boost its reality bending capabilities? We don’t know. Maybe it heightened them just enough to allow it to create a fissure in its containment chamber leading immediately outside of Site-78. But maybe…
Andvari: …maybe it increased its ontokinetic abilities to such a degree that it was able to “steal” anywhere outside of the site, able to create a fissure capable of taking it anywhere…
Moon nods.
Moon: Right. It’s not a fissure at all, it’s more like a… a gate. It’s own personal way, one that only it can access.
Andvari: It’s a tear in the fabric of space itself, it’s—it’s—
Sloane: …a bend in reality?
Andvari pauses for a moment, then sighs.
Andvari: …yes. Thank you, Sloane.
Wichita: So, the true objective is figuring out where it chose to flee in the first place, then.
Andvari nods.
Andvari: Yes… good work, Cassidy. I’ll make sure to mention your theory during my meeting.
From his spot on the couch, Sloane gently pokes Moon with his elbow, smiling up at him. Moon smiles back.
Andvari: Now, aside from its creation, have we made any progress while studying the way?
Moon nods.
Moon: It’s currently being monitored by a small team of researchers and appears to be slowly regressing toward a non-anomalous state as the recorded Hume level of the containment chamber begins to settle at numbers closer to what we’d expect from most Class-I Type Green entities. Although, I’d like your approval to continue surveillance of the containment chamber for the time being. We’ve found ourselves a bit… confounded regarding 8944’s ability to completely alter the geography of Site-78 while confining its manipulations exclusively within its containment chamber. As I’m sure you all know, 8944’s containment chamber did not share an outer wall with the exterior of Site-78, leaving the containment chamber quite non-euclidean in the wake of its breach.
Andvari nods.
Andvari: Right, right. You have my approval, Cassidy.
He glances at Sloane before returning Moon’s gaze.
Andvari: Speaking of, what was 8944’s recorded Hume level at the time of its containment breach? The more numbers and raw data that I can bring into this meeting, the better.
Moon clears his throat, retrieving a tablet from a nearby table.
Moon: Well, I checked the counters last night…
Moon glances at Sloane.
Moon: …I couldn’t sleep much. But I ran the numbers again, and again, and again, and I… I can’t really make any sense of them.
Andvari raises an eyebrow.
Andvari: …what do you mean?
Moon taps the tablet’s screen several times.
Moon: Well… according to all of the Kant counters active at the time of the containment breach, 8944 was seven thousand, seven hundred, and seventy-seven…
Andvari stares at Moon, his mouth agape.
Moon: …and a half horseshoe crabs above baseline reality while simultaneously being seven thousand, seven hundred, and seventy-seven and a half…
Moon narrows his eyes at the tablet and moves it closer to his face.
Moon: …quantum wave allocations below baseline reality.
A moment passes. Sloane slings an arm over the back of the couch and turns toward Moon.
Sloane: Wait a minute, don’t our Kant counters only go to 500?
A moment passes.
Andvari: …I’m so fucked.
He groans and rakes a hand through his hair.
Andvari: Alright, alright, alright… Cassidy, send me the data. I’ll try to make it make sense… Wichita.
He turns toward Wichita.
Andvari: I want you to return to your team in New York City but keep 8944’s old apartment under constant surveillance. I honestly doubt that that’s where it’d go but as it stands, that’s our only lead. Aside from that, you may return to your regular duties. Thank you for joining us.
Wichita nods.
Wichita: Yes, Sir. But…
She pauses for a moment before continuing.
Wichita: …however slim the chances may be that my team will find the anomaly, should we encounter it… how can we engage it without simply making it that much more of a potent reality bender?
Andvari shakes his head and sighs.
Andvari: I… I don’t know. We’ll discuss how we’re going to move forward during our meeting today and then… I’ll get back to you regarding how you’re to proceed.
Wichita nods.
Wichita: Yes, Sir. Thank you for having me. Moon. Sloane.
Wichita nods to both of them and exits the room.
Andvari: Cassidy.
Moon: Yes, Simon? I just sent over the data by the way.
Andvari nods.
Andvari: …thank you. Get on the horn with the Industry Plants.
Moon: How many of them?
Andvari: All of them. The GOC, MC&D, Wondertainment…
He pauses.
Andvari: …the Serpent’s Hand. All of them. You’re asking after the name “Wren Crowe.” I don’t care if they’ve met her, heard her name in passing, or saw it written inside of a goddamn bathroom stall, I want to know about it. If we find her, we can lure 8944 back to Site-78.
Moon nods.
Moon: I’m on it.
He starts walking toward the door but pauses, standing in place.
Andvari: …Cassidy? What is it?
Moon turns toward Sloane.
Moon: …no matter how many times I pour over the UIU’s files, our own interviews, our testing logs… something’s just never made any sense to me. Can I ask you something?
Sloane nods.
Sloane: Shoot.
Moon: I pulled your personnel file after your first psych eval with 8944… you never knew your father, he left when you were a child. How could he have given you that pen on his deathbed?
Sloane chokes out a surprised laugh. He retrieves a black click pen emblazoned with the Foundation’s insignia from the breast pocket of his coat, fidgeting with it in his hands.
Sloane: You really did your homework, huh? I bought that pen at a drugstore right after Simon assigned me to Robin and I got a peak at the kid’s files. You’re not the only one who studies. Truth is, I’ve actually always fancied myself a writer… I dual-majored in college, Psychology and Creative Writing. I guess… at the end of the day, I thought that I could spin a story to someone who’s far too acquainted with being caught in a web.
Moon appears to ponder this for a moment. He nods to Sloane, nods to Andvari, and exits the room. Sloane turns to Andvari and smiles.
Sloane: What about me, boss?
Andvari: You…
He sighs.
Andvari: You’ll be transferred to a different site, forced to sit through a disciplinary hearing for posterity’s sake, and fill out more forms than you’ve ever seen in your life. Then, the Ethics Committee will give you a new assignment, I reckon. Seeing to it that you take your notes digitally, this time around.
A moment passes wordlessly between the two.
Andvari: …I had no choice but to file a report with the Ethics Committee, Alexander. Although, I filed a report of negligence rather than one of insubordination, which would’ve been a real blight on your personnel record.
Sloane stands from the couch with a small grunt.
Sloane: …thank you, Simon. I know that I don’t deserve your help but… it is appreciated. As always.
He steps forward.
Sloane: I’m sorry that Robin escaped, Simon. I truly am. I didn’t mean for it to happen and… and it was a mistake. I’m aware that certain people see me and think that I don’t take my job seriously enough, that I’m not cut out for our brand of work.
He casts his gaze downward.
Sloane: …whether you believe me or not, my work is the most important thing in my life. Which is why I can’t apologize for how I treated Robin while he was in containment. I won’t. He’s a good kid, Simon. And he didn’t deserve the treatment that he received after he’d just escaped from one hellish prison, only to be thrown into another cage.
Andvari rolls his eyes and scoffs.
Andvari: It’s an anomaly, Alexander. I’d have thought that if anyone would understand the importance of keeping their patients at an arm’s length, it would be you.
Sloane: You didn’t come to me asking for help with Robin because you thought that I’d treat him like a monster, Simon. You came to me because you knew that I’d do the one thing that so many of us are becoming incapable of doing… treating them like what they are. People, Simon. People who are stuck in terrifying situations, people who don’t know what’s happening to them, people who we have the ability to truly help! I mean, Christ, the fear mongering is getting worse by the day! The Foundation’s end won’t come from any super weapon, or insurgency, or wrathful deity. No. Our apathy will be our destruction. Every anomaly that we contain, like a leech, drains us of more of our humanity as we turn a blind eye to suffering that we are responsible for.
Andvari shrugs.
Andvari: We can stand here waxing philosophical all day if you’d like, Alexander. But we have a job to do. And at the end of the day, we must prioritize our maintenance of the veil of normalcy over the wellbeing of those who stand in direct opposition to it.
Sloane: Listen to the recordings of my sessions with Robin and then you can preach to me about priorities.
Andvari does not respond.
Sloane: …I know that you’ve been having Cassidy listen to them and report back to you. Are you that afraid of allowing yourself to feel for them?
Andvari: Oh, please, do us both a favor and step down from that high horse. What gives you the right to lecture me about how I choose to go about my business?
Sloane shrugs.
Sloane: I don’t know. Because we’re friends, Simon. Because you’re my friend.
A moment passes. Sloane sighs.
Sloane: …what can I say? This place hasn’t taken my heart from me quite yet, I guess.
He freezes.
Sloane: …no pun intended.
He turns and starts toward the door, pausing just before he reaches it.
Sloane: …will you tell me if they find him?
Andvari knits his brow and crosses his arms.
Andvari: I can’t, Alexander. After this, I… I just can’t.
Sloane chuckles.
Sloane: Yeah… I figured as much.
He opens the door but does not step through.
Sloane: …what a horrible world to live in.
Andvari: Excuse me?
Sloane glances back toward him.
Sloane: When your only means of defense depends upon your willingness to mutilate yourself.
A moment passes. Andvari casts his gaze downward.
Andvari: …ah. Yes… I suppose it is.
Sloane: Goodbye, Simon. Let me know if you need me. I’m always a call away.
Sloane exits the room. Andvari sits in silence for an additional five minutes before exiting as well.
<END LOG>
Approximately two months after SCP-8944’s containment breach, a Foundation AIC (Artificially Intelligent Conscript) designed to monitor the activities and publications of GOI-5917 (“The Wandsmen”) flagged an article published in the group’s periodical, the Wandsmen’s Gazette, as potentially pertaining to an ongoing investigation. The article, published from within the Free Port class city-state of Three Portlands, was then forwarded to the personnel of Site-78 by the AIC to be sent to the proper authorities. The article is reproduced below for posterity.
The Monocular Marauder!
by The Second Wandsman of Estofauk’s Crimson Emporium (currently residing within the city of Three Portlands)
Local law enforcement officials and agents of the United States government’s Unusual Incidents Unit are cautioning all Three Portlanders, parahuman and otherwise, who frequent Cambium Circle to be on the lookout for pickpockets. Investigators say they are seeing a rise in theft crimes in the Circle and while most instances are nonviolent, with a majority of victims unaware that they’ve been stolen from until after the fact, citizens are advised to tread with caution while in the public park, especially when traveling alone, at night, or both. The identity of a primary suspect for multiple reported thefts is still under investigation, however, numerous victims have reported seeing a young man (age 16 to 18) with a patch over his left eye and a surgical mask covering the lower half of his face prior to their theft.
Others have reported seeing a young man of a similar age with a discolored left eye, potentially glass or some other kind of prosthetic, and a wound to the right-hand corner of his mouth. Are these two young men completely unrelated? Partners in crime? One and the same?
Coincidence? Or cycloptic parahuman with a penchant for petty theft? Either way, make sure to keep an eye peeled in Cambium Circle, report any suspicious activity to your local law enforcement officials, and we’ll keep you updated as investigations continue.
Originally published in the Wandsmen’s Gazette on 02-12-2026