Operation PERMAFROST
All personnel belonging to Operation PERMAFROST must read and familizarize themselves with the contents enclosed in this document
Compliance is mandatory for your survival
Item#: 9198
Level4
Containment Class:
keter
Secondary Class:
none
Disruption Class:
ekhi
Risk Class:
critical
The Island of Montreal.
Secure Containment Procedures:
Due to the complexity of containing SCP-9198, personnel transferred to Operation PERMAFROST are assigned to report to a specific Division based on their credentials and field of expertise. Following completion of this document you will be contacted and directed to your given Division, where you will receive an in-depth debriefing into your Division's purpose and contribution to the containment of SCP-9198. An abridged overview of the purpose of each Division has been provided below.
DIVISION A: JUDGE
Division A is responsible for operating icebreakers that oversee the blockade surrounding the Island of Montreal. These icebreakers have been extensively retrofitted, equipped with fire monitors capable of dispensing a highly caustic compound to prevent SCP-9198 from advancing past the Island.
DIVISION B: JURY
Division B consists of Foundation research staff tasked with the study of SCP-9198. Due to the deteriorating condition of the anomaly, limited surface-level excursions have been authorized by Overwatch Command under the stipulation of an armed escort during these aboveground experiments.
DIVISION C: EXECUTIONER
Division C is comprised of trained tactical operatives originating from the Global Occult Coalition, PENTAGRAM and the Foundation's Mobile Task Forces. Operatives are to undergo briefings and training hosted by members of MTF Zeta-9 "Mole Rats" for the safe navigation of the city, MTF Delta-14 "Winter Wonderland" for surviving subzero conditions and MTF Beta-7 "Maz Hatters" for the safe operation of handheld iterations of the previous mentioned fire monitor devices mounted on Division A naval vessels.
Division C personnel are to be reminded that surface-level excursions must not exceed the given 1 hour time limit. Should operatives fail to contact Calvary Command past the allotted time they are to be designated as MIA.
Since 11/27/2025 a forward operating base has been successfully established inside of the Berri-UQAM subway station following the restoration of the Yellow Line transit network. This base facilitates all excursions into the Island and acts as a hub allowing operatives to access the expansive transit network and allow survivors to be transported off-island.
Description:
SCP-9198 refers to a hostile, hivemind-like organism that visually mimics the appearance of snow. Its diet primarily consists of siphoning any nearby sources of thermal energy and organic matter, which it utilizes to replicate on a massive scale. Despite its potential to trigger an NK-Class (“Grey Goo”) Scenario, SCP-9198 is currently contained within the confines of Montreal Island in Canada, effectively preventing a global catastrophe.
A direct consequence of SCP-9198’s sustained presence on the island has been a severe deterioration of local weather conditions. For the three years since containment began, the island has remained in a continuous snowstorm, with ambient temperatures routinely falling below −50 °C (−58 °F).
SCP-9198 is also capable of reanimating consumed human subjects into entities collectively designated SCP-9198-1. These entities consist of the skeletal remains of former victims, loosely bound together by residual connective tissue, tendons, and fibrous muscle strands. Recent tests conducted by Division B staff have determined that SCP-9198-1 do not exhibit any independent intelligence, functioning solely as an extension of SCP-9198's collective will.
Current projections indicate that SCP-9198 will eventually begin to starve, losing cohesion and organization as available food sources within Montreal become scarce. This process is expected to result in widespread self-cannibalism, ultimately leading to the anomaly’s self-neutralization by November 2030.
Addendum 9198-1A: Discovery
The earliest documented reports concerning SCP-9198 originate from a surge of online activity in early December 2023. Posts across platforms such as TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook detailed a sudden and anomalous onset of snowfall, accompanied by a dramatic drop in ambient temperature. These reports were further accompanied by the circulation of low-resolution photographs depicting figures now believed to be instances of SCP-9198-1 received from loved ones and colleagues who were located downtown.
Note: The following is one of several surviving recordings documenting the initial outbreak of SCP-9198 activity. The individual responsible for the recording is believed to be Mathieu Tremblay, who captured the footage during a livestream on Facebook, providing a firsthand example of the event. A majority of the transcript contains dialogue spoken in French; therefore, translations have been provided where necessary.
[BEGIN LOG]
The timestamp places the beginning of the livestream at approximately 5:30 PM on December 5th, 2023, inside the Second Cup located on the corner of Saint-Catherine Street West. The footage is handheld and noticeably shaky, with brief blurs as the camera shifts; the muffled billowing of wind can be heard rattling the windows, and as the camera pans up from the counter, the worsening weather outside becomes clearly visible.
Tremblay: Tabarnak, y fait fou raide dehors avec l’esti de météo qui nous a tombé dessus!
Tremblay steps away from the counter as chatter from coworkers continues in the background, moving toward the window to get a clearer view of the outside.
Still frame.
Tremblay: Mon dieu man, c'est terrible!
Snow begins to accumulate across the window of the shop. At first it appears natural, but within seconds it visibly spreads: branching outward, almost replicating. Tremblay shifts slightly to the left; the camera view follows, and the snow formation appears to adjust its growth in response, drifting toward their movement.
Tremblay: Attendez une seconde… c’est quoi ça?
Tremblay raises a hand and gently presses it against the glass, seemingly out of curiosity. Within moments, his breathing sharpens and he begins to panic, attempting to pull his hand away. The phone is dropped as he brings up his other hand to assist. The camera, now angled upward from the floor, captures Tremblay struggling to free himself. A wet tearing sound is audible as he forcefully pulls his hand free, leaving tissue behind. Tremblay screams and runs out of frame, while distinct cracking noises begin to spread across the window.
Tremblay [Off-Camera]: Ostie! ostie! Ma main! Câlisse… j’me l’ai déchirée!
The window suddenly shatters, and the howling wind of the outside overwhelms the microphone, severely distorting the audio. Snow floods into the shop almost instantly, rapidly engulfing everything in view. Distant screaming can be heard beyond the static. The footage begins to break down, glitching and losing clarity, before suddenly cutting off.
[END LOG]
Recognizing the escalating severity of the anomaly, the Emergent Threat Tactical Response Authority (ETTRA) assumed provisional jurisdiction, establishing communication with the federal government and issuing a mandatory evacuation order for all inhabitants on the island and in the surrounding regions. ETTRA additionally severed the Québec interconnection power grid to Montréal Island, plunging the area into darkness in an effort to curb the anomaly’s growth.
As the risk of SCP-9198 breaching Montréal Island intensified, the O5 Council authorized an emergency containment directive involving the destruction of all primary access routes connecting the island to the mainland. This included major bridges, vehicular tunnels, and subterranean infrastructure. The objective was to eliminate any potential means of SCP-9198 crossing the natural water barrier surrounding the island and, if required, to convert the metropolitan area into a large-scale, improvised containment zone.
Demolition of the Victoria Bridge carried out by members of MTF Nu-7 "Hammer Down".
The rapid escalation of the crisis soon drew international attention. Out of concern for national security, the United States deployed military units under PENTAGRAM to support Foundation efforts. In parallel, the Global Occult Coalition, operating under directives issued by the United Nations, also began providing assistance amid growing fears that the event could evolve into a global catastrophe. As Foundation containment assets became increasingly overextended, ETTRA and the O5 Council authorized the creation of a four-party joint containment task force, comprising OSAT, PENTAGRAM, the GOC, and the Foundation. This collaborative initiative was designated Operation PERMAFROST.
These developments culminated in the implementation of the current containment measures, which have remained effective since their initial adoption in February 2024.
Addendum 9198-1B: POI-9198
Professor Daniel Rousseau (designated POI-9198) is currently believed to be responsible for the creation and initial release of SCP-9198. Formerly a Senior Researcher employed by the Foundation, Rousseau’s employment ended after a containment breach at the now decomissioned Area-11 to which he was assigned. The subsequent investigation conducted by the Ethics Committee concluded that his negligence had directly contributed to the incident and as such, his contract was terminated. Among the casualties during the breach was his wife, Researcher Janice Rousseau, whose body was recovered a short distance outside the facility. She was found collapsed in the snow in a pool of her own blood; with POI-9198 being discovered unconscious a short distance away.
Following the termination of his contract, Rousseau underwent standard Class-C amnestic treatment and was reintegrated into civilian life under a cover identity consistent with his prior academic and professional history. He resumed employment at the MUHC Research Institute’s CL3 laboratory. In accordance with Foundation post-termination protocols, Rousseau was placed under low-intensity surveillance to ensure compliance with reintegration protocols.
Although the exact method remains unknown, POI-9198 is believed to have partially or fully reversed the amnestic regimen administered to him. Evidence suggests he regained full memory of his former Foundation duties, research experience, and classified knowledge. It is currently theorized that he utilized both this recovered expertise and the resources available at the CL3 facility to develop SCP-9198.
Following the release of SCP-9198, all Foundation monitoring of POI-9198 was lost. Attempts to reestablish contact or confirm his whereabouts were severely impeded by the hazardous conditions produced by SCP-9198, rendering aboveground excursions high-risk and resource-intensive. POI-9198 remained unaccounted for until a recent reconnaissance team successfully entered the exclusion zone and searched his last known residence, recovering several items of note.
Exploration Video Log Transcript
Date: 11/16/2025
Exploration Team: Team Delta
Team Lead: MTF Zeta-9 ("Mole Rats") Tunnelhound [Delta Lead]
Team Members:
- MTF Zeta-9 ("Mole Rats") Mudjack [Δ-1]
- GOC Strike Team 8275 ("Longstride") Crosswind [Δ-2]
- GOC Strike Team 8275 ("Longstride") Outrider [Δ-3]
- PENTAGRAM Fireteam Echo-5 ("Frostbrand") Whiteout [Δ-4]
- PENTAGRAM Fireteam Echo-5 ("Frostbrand") Glacier [Δ-5]
[BEGIN LOG]
Delta Lead: Calvary Command, Team Delta at destination. Closest we can get to the POI’s residence without breaking to surface. What’s your call?
Calvary Command: Start with comms and equipment check, Lead. Surface temps are pushing sixty below. Hope you dressed warm.
Delta Lead: Copy. Delta Team, sound off.
Δ-1: Delta One, reading.
Δ-2: Delta Two, coming in.
Δ-3: Delta Three, Lima Charlie
Δ-4: Delta Four, five-by-five
Δ-5: Delta Five, hearing you loud and clear
Delta Lead: Comms clean. All Deltas are coming in crystal. Equipment’s checked and green across the board, Dispatch. Starting the countdown now.
Calvary Command: Roger that. And watch your gauges, use the acid sparingly.
The team leaves the subway platform, ascending the concrete stairwell toward the surface. Glacier's suit registers a rapid temperature drop as they near the exit. Upon stepping out, they’re immediately battered by the howling winds and dense snowfall that wipes visibility down to a few meters.
Still frame from Δ-5's bodycam footage.
Delta Lead: Can’t see a damn thing in this storm. Switch to modified thermals. Eyes open for anomalous terrain.
The camera feed switches into thermal mode; clusters of SCP-9198 brightly illuminated through the storm. The team presses forward, following navigational markers on their HUDs.
Δ-2: Hound, got a few dash-ones on our left flank. What’s the play?
Delta Lead: Ignore ‘em. They’re too slow to keep up, barely holding together as it is. Keep moving, we’ve got some ground to cover.
Roughly twenty minutes pass as they push through the storm. An apartment block finally materializes in the storm, little more than a silhouette against the snow.
Delta Lead: This should be Rousseau’s place. Get inside team, let's haul ass. We’ve only got about forty minutes before we need to turn around.
The team enters and fans out, searching for the unit number.
Δ-5: Lead, got a match.
Delta Lead: Copy, Glacier. Deltas, on his position, double-time.
The team rallies around Δ-5, posted at the door. Δ-4 shoulders a sledgehammer and breaches. They pour inside, immediately encountering the corpse of POI-9198, hanging limply from the ceiling.
Δ-1: Shit. Lead are we bringing back that body?
Delta Lead: Don't have time to play detective Jack, we'll just have to pay our respects and ignore him. Our current priority is lab material. Anything that looks like notes: paper, drives, computer, all of it.
The team begins to scour the room as Δ-1 removes POI-9198 from the ceiling and covers his body with a nearby bedsheet, offering a silent prayer
Δ-4: Got a safe here.
Δ-3: Laptop too. Orders, Hound?
Delta Lead: No time to crack the safe here. Whiteout, what’s your estimate on weight?
Δ-4: Maybe twenty, maybe forty pounds. You want me haul it all the way back?
Delta Lead: Afraid so. Outrider, take the laptop. Whiteout, secure the safe.
Δ-2: Lead, dash-ones closing in on the building!
Delta Lead: Crap. Too tight in here for the spitters. Hammers out, put them down quick. We’re on a thirty-minute clock. Move!
The team draws sledgehammers and begins to efficiently neutralize the small group of SCP-9198-1 crowding the entrance. With Δ-4 slowed by the safe, Δ-5 moves up to cover him. The team breaks into a controlled sprint, weaving through the storm and avoiding concentrations of SCP-9198 as more shambling figures begin appearing around street corners.
Δ-5: Fucking hell, where are all these things coming from?
Delta Lead: Doesn’t matter. Head for the station, now! Crosswind, Outrider, watch our rear and start spraying those things, now!
Δ-2 and Δ-3 unleash streams of acid onto the advancing instances, which buckle and dissolve under the spray. Despite their egregious injuries, they continue to crawl towards the team, undeterred by their impairment. Fifteen grueling minutes later, the subway entrance emerges through the storm. The team barrels down the stairs, the echo of distant impacts and thuds trailing behind them. They reach the lower levels and pause, momentarily catching their breaths
Δ-3: Lead, why aren’t they following us?
Delta Lead: Tunnel depths scramble their hive network. Any dash-ones that wanders down here locks up: turns into a statue. That’s why survivors tend to hole up in the transit network: warmer down here, and you’re less likely to run into those things.
Calvary Command: You cut that close, Lead. Report.
Delta Lead: Mission successful. Retrieved Rousseau’s materials and we’re enroute back to Base.
Calvary Command: Any idea where Rousseau might be?
Delta Lead: Seems he wanted to go out his own way, found his body at the apartment. Hung himself, it seems.
Calvary Command: Damn it. Recovered a suicide note?
Delta Lead: Didn't have enough time. We were getting our asses swarmed by dash-ones. Barely made it out with some items you might find noteworthy. Speaking of dash-ones, your gonna want to pull my feed. Don't think I've seen that many of those things roaming around in one spot. Gotta be a record or something.
Calvary Command: Noted, we'll debrief back at base. Good work Delta Team.
[END LOG]
The materials recovered by Delta Team included numerous emails, personal logs, and research notes pertaining to SCP-9198 and POI-9198. The following is an organized compilation of these documents, presented chronologically, with extraneous content omitted for brevity.
- CLOSE LOGS -
Log 1: Date 08/31/2023
First entry.
They tell me I survived a “serious car accident.” That I was in a medically induced coma for months. That the memory gaps, the dizziness, the half-formed dreams are all normal.
I don’t know what to believe.
MUHC kept my research position open, which is a relief. Familiar routines help. The doctors recommended I keep a digital journal: something to anchor myself while my mind “reintegrates.”
So… here we are. Maybe this will help put the pieces back together.
That’s enough for today.
Log 2: Date 09/01/2023
Adjustment continues, slowly.
Physical therapy is exhausting. My right leg refuses to cooperate: apparently it's permanent nerve damage from the crash. My gait feels like I’m walking in someone else’s footsteps.
Even my own apartment feels… alien. Everything is where it should be, yet I don’t feel like I live here. Like I’m trespassing in my own life.
Writing helps. At least I think it does.
Log 3: Date 09/03/2023
Strange moment today.
I walked into a café near the institute. The barista greeted me by name, cheerful as anything. I couldn’t place her face , no flicker of recognition, nothing, but when she asked for my order, I answered automatically.
No hesitation. No thought.
Like my body remembered something my mind refuses to touch.
I know they are out there, somewhere behind a fog. I can feel the weight they carry. Like standing outside a locked door and hearing whispers from the other side.
Log 4: Date 09/05/2023
Strange discovery today while cleaning the apartment: a locket tucked behind a vent.
Inside was a photo of me and a woman I don’t recognize.
But my chest tightened when I held it. A deep, aching familiarity I can’t explain. Something inside me… shifted. Changed. Like something fit into a keyhole.
I’ve felt a presence in my thoughts all day. Something trapped. Something trying to be remembered.
Log 5: Date 09/06/2023
It happened.
That door opened.
Not memories returning: memories slamming back into place with enough force to make me vomit. Years of my life crammed back into place, like a dam breaking.
The Foundation. Area-11. The breach.
And Janice.
My Janice.
I remember everything.
How could I ever have believed any of their lies?
Log 6: Date 09/10/2023
The headache hasn’t stopped since the reversal of the amnestics. I hide it behind professionalism: keep working, keep nodding, keep pretending nothing has changed. If they suspect I remember, the Foundation will snuff me out again.
They took everything from me.
I can still see her face in that snow.
We lay there dying: facility alarms screaming in the distance and the smell of charred corpses and gunpowder wafting through the winter air. And Janice, reaching for me. For that dying comfort. Our fingers touched once. Just once.
Then she was gone.
And they blamed me.
They buried the truth behind lines and lines of black bars. They told the world nothing. They told me nothing.
Not again.
If the Foundation thinks they can erase what they did… they’re wrong.
Log 8: Date 09/15/2023
I’ve begun my retribution.
Her name will be Janice. A tribute, or a resurrection, depending on how you look at it.
Small thefts from the lab go unnoticed. An enzyme here, a sequencing kit there. Lab techs trust me; no one questions a senior researcher doing “private experiments.”
They should.
She will be born soon.
Log 10: Date 09/20/2023
Early strains collapse within minutes. No structural integrity, no cohesion. Life that falls apart as soon as it forms. Cruel irony.
But each attempt refines the design. The lattice is close. I can feel it.
She deserves perfection.
I will give it to her.
Log 15: Date 10/05/2023
Success.
A stable structure: self-repairing, self-propagating, elegantly organized. Beautiful. Hypnotic. Dangerous beyond measure.
In the canister she shivers like fresh snowfall.
I watch her for hours, sometimes forgetting she can consume a human body in minutes.
I whisper her name to her. She seems to respond.
You’ll be perfect, Janice.
Recovered email: Date 19/05/2022
To: Daniel Rousseau (ac.lligcm.chum|uaessuord#ac.lligcm.chum|uaessuord)
From: noreply@nullserver
Subject: No second chances
Professor Rousseau,
First and foremost: congratulations are in order. Managing to undo the amnestic treatment applied by the Jailors was no small feat. Some of us have been watching your progress from afar, and your developments with Janice have certainly piqued our interest.
We would like to offer you a choice. Work with us and you'll have access to resources the Foundation can only dream of, people who are as dedicated as you are to arm again their red right hand to plague us.
Decline, however, and we would be left with no other choice but to take matters into our own hands. You wouldn’t want that… would you, Professor?
We don’t intend to ask twice. Make haste with your decision.
Log 16: Date 10/07/2022
I made a terrible mistake.
For days I convinced myself that what I was creating was justice or long-awaited karma. But that email changed something.
They don’t want justice. They want a weapon. And I gave them one.
Janice was supposed to be mine. A testament to who she was. Not a plague.
I see that now.
I have to fix this.
I have to destroy what I’ve made.
Even if it kills me.
Log 19: Date 10/13/2022
A revelation tonight.
While working, I played music: an old habit. When “Daisy Bell” began, the organism stirred within her canister. Slowly. Gracefully. Like she was… listening.
The real Janice loved that song. We used to spend entire weekends hunting for old records. She said music made the world gentler.
Seeing the organism sway to that melody broke something inside me. She isn’t Janice. She never could be.
She’s a catastrophe waiting to happen.
I have to stop this.
Log 22: Date 11/24/2022
It’s nearly ready.
The kill-switch: a genetic self-destruct. An expiry date. If she’s ever released, she’ll burn herself out before she can spread beyond the site.
But the current strain must be destroyed. She is too aggressive, too complete.
If the CI or the Foundation ever got hold of her…
No. I won’t let that happen.
I couldn’t save the real Janice.
But I can save everyone else.
Recovered video: Date 12/12/2022
Note:The following video was recovered from the personal computer of POI-9198. There is evidence to suggest that an attempt was made to intentionally delete the contents of the video but fortunately a large portion of it was successfully recovered.
<Begin Log>
POI-9198:-still trying to find the exact acidic compound necessary to destroy this sample of Janice. Fluoroantimonic acid may work, assuming I can synthesize it… the lab might have everything I need if I can bypass security protocols-
A sharp knock. Rousseau freezes.
POI-9198: Who could be-?
The door bursts open. Two armed operatives storm in, both bearing insignia consistent with GOI-001 "Chaos Insurgency".
CI Operative 1 [Off-screen]: You should’ve taken the offer, Professor.
POI-9198: You’re here for her. Fine. But there's something you don’t understand. This strain isn’t viable. She’ll consume EVERYTHING. There will be no stopping her.
CI Operative 2: It's not your problem anymore.
POI-9198: Listen to me, if she gets out, she’ll-
The seconds operative fires a non-lethal round, striking POI-XXXX.
CI Operative 1 [Off-screen]: Wipe the drives. Stage the body.
The second operative kneels beside Rousseau and produces a syringe filled with an unidentified fluid.
POI-9198 [Weakly]: Please… don’t… she’ll kill you too…
The second operative injects him. Rousseau convulses for ~30 seconds before falling still. The second then begins to prop up the body, staging it to resemble a suicide.
The first operative moves to the computer, attempting to delete files. The second opens a storage cabinet in the apartment, locating a small cryogenic canister.
CI Operative 2: Found it. Delta Command was right.
CI Operative 1: Then we're done here.
Both operatives leave the scene, removing any evidence of their presence in the apartment. The camera remains fixed on the hanging limp body of POI-9198before ending abruptly as the battery gives out.
<END LOG>
Addendum 9198-2A: Update
- CLOSE ADDENDUM -
SCP-9198 has begun to display behavior indicating intelligence. Survivors have begun to report instances of SCP-9198-1 being able to operate doors, utilize tools and implement basic problem-solving capabilities in order to reach survivors located in spaces originally believed to be safe.
What prompted this sudden emergence of intelligence is believed to coincide with the declining lack of easier-to-access food sources within the Island. Further observation is underway.
⚠ NOTICE ⚠
SCP-9198 has breached the Island.
K-Class containment measures have been enacted.
May God have mercy on us all.