Mr. President, please don't dissolve me
CRat26
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Word Count: 2,449 (est. 9 minutes)
Item#: 9776
Level3
Containment Class:
euclid
Secondary Class:
none
Disruption Class:
vlam
Risk Class:
caution
Special Containment Procedures:
All containment of SCP-9776 is to be handled by DOPA's Washington Site 776. Permanent monitoring has been established around SCP-9776's containment zone to prevent a breach if SCP-9776 attempts to emerge. In the event of a breach, the surrounding area will be immediately evacuated under the pretense of a high-magnitude earthquake. Half of an average-sized male human cadaver is to be fed to SCP-9776 daily. Staff may selectively authorize other calming protocols, such as temporary crowd reduction, music, treats, and engagement with simulated hunting behaviors in a controlled environment.
Maintenance of relations between the Foundation and the US government's BTV organizations is crucial in retaining Foundation control of SCP-9776's containment. Despite continuous pressure from both Pentagram and the UIU, the Foundation has managed to retain general governmental support for their continued authority over the Washington Monument. For bureaucratic reasons, SCP-9776 must be contained within its chamber.
Description:
SCP-9776 resembles the first sitting US president, George Washington. SCP-9776 is sickly and displays symptoms akin to Moeller's disease. SCP-9776 has also lost significant amounts of brain function, largely due to a significant loss of brain matter during its initial creation period. This, combined with its severely damaged larynx, is likely why it is unable to speak.
A visual replication of SCP-9776's features, including its clawed, bird-like appendage. It has been observed using this appendage to tear apart its prey, after it has been sufficiently de-solidified by its acidic enzymes.
SCP-9776's diet consists exclusively of human flesh. Its stomach acid is notably more acidic than that of an average human, allowing for easier digestion. SCP-9776 must be tended to often, as it will exit its containment cell without sufficient stimulation. In all cases, this has led to SCP-9776 hunting and devouring someone from the civilian population.
SCP-9776 utilizes aggressive mimicry to stalk targets unnoticed. SCP-9776 is nocturnal, preferring night to increase chances of finding an isolated individual. As a result, SCP-9776 will only pursue individuals who are out of view of other bystanders, preferring empty buildings, parks, or alleyways. Once SCP-9776 has located a safe target, it will go through the following steps:
SCP-9776 will approach the target and tap its shoulder. Upon the target turning to face it, SCP-9776 will vomit an acidic secretion onto the face and upper chest. This secretion will immediately begin liquefying most organic matter it comes into contact with, including skin, flesh, organs and hair.
After about 3 minutes, the target will undergo liquefaction, leaving only bones behind. At this point, SCP-9776 will use its hands to scoop up parts of the target, slowly consuming them. Rarely, SCP-9776 may store viscera from victims in its pockets. This is typically a sign of heavy distress, and as such should be immediately addressed.
After SCP-9776 has finished consuming a victim, it will attempt and fail to return to its chamber. Past this point, it will wander around the D.C area, posing further danger to civilians and Veil stability. This cycle is what originally caused SCP-9776 to be discovered by Foundation personnel, as SCP-9776 had wandered into the capital building late at night and consumed US Senator Tommy Tuberville.
SCP-9776 was originally discovered during a checkup on James Earl Jr, following his and his wife's disappearance from public life. Despite being found in a semi-stable state, he would later pass away in a nearby hospital. His wife was never found. The USSS would also find SCP-9776, and immediately brought it under UIU custody.
James had created SCP-9776 through the use of a complex thaumaturgical revival ritual. The spiritual aftereffects of this ritual would linger around the home up until its demolition in 1982. Reports from families living in the home after the events claimed that visual and auditory apparitions were appearing throughout the home. Along with this, it was reported that vile smells would regularly emanate from the walls. It is believed these effects could manifest further than these reports suggest, and as such, the area is under regular surveillance.
SCP-9776 is not to be referred to or considered as US president George Washington, despite this physically and spiritually being the case.
Creation Report 9776A
The following documents were first given to the Foundation after the US government first transferred jurisdiction over the containment of SCP-9776.
November 3rd, 1976
I have seen things. Things I believed were impossible. Images that burned and weaseled themselves into my brain and have taken root in my skull. This was my first day, and this was the first thing they did. They told me it was the most important; they told me I had the privilege to know. Some privilege. I got up to write this in an attempt to quell the raging storm of fire building up in my stomach; maybe to make some sort of sense of what I have seen. But nothing comes.
I did not truly understand what I was stepping into when I took up this position—but I'm not sure I feel regret. This is my burden.
December 11th, 1976
For the past month, I've been forced to rigorously learn the skills they say I'll need for the job. How to resist psychic attacks, and viruses that eat your mind from the inside out, and even rudimentary astral projection. They said I was a natural at that. Crazy, huh?
Frankly, it's been an exhausting process. But I understand the necessity; we have many enemies, some of them even more powerful than our great nation. I will do what I must.
December 12th, 1976
I've been considering astral projection again today. I was up all night reading about it, much to my wife's chagrin. There's something I've been wanting to see.
December 14th, 1976
I found myself falling into this great, blackened space. I fell until my head hit the dirt. It was wet—it was dripping with blood. I was stained with the red as it slowly compressed under my weight. It was the blood of a child, young and unformed. He was sitting in the middle of the dirt, in the black, crying. Stinking of rot. The smell was so thick it clung to my nostrils and stung my eyes. It was gutting itself, over and over. It was surrounded by 3 other small creatures, and it was gutting them too. I couldn't stand the sight. I felt the sting of vomit touch my throat; I woke up choking on it.
The soul of America is dying.
December 28th, 1976
I see now what must be done. I have ruminated for a significant period of time, and in that time, I have learned much. I see more than the truth; I see the future that our country needs. We allow ourselves to be subjugated by higher powers, and all the while, we slowly rot into nothing.
We need to return to the past, bring the leaders of yesterday into tomorrow.
And I know just the thing to do it.
January 7th, 1977
Everything hurts… but I'm so close. My blood and sweat have stained every surface of the room—but the bowls are full. I thought I heard something that sounded like my wife banging on the door a few hours ago. I heard its voice, but I couldn't make anything out. It was garbled and cold; it felt like someone had dropped rocks through my skull. I told it to leave. I watched the door shake with a great rumble. It was right about then I pushed the bookshelf against it.
Luckily, the voices have stopped by now. Now that everything I need is complete, fulfilled, and full. I can't say I feel good about it. But it had to be done. I know it did. I just…
I think it's safe for me to leave the room now. Maybe I can pay someone to come clean it up after everything's done.
January 8th, 1977
I've been hearing things again. Last night, while I was trying to sleep, something came up to my door and tapped. Three times. Then three times again. It was quiet. Barely audible over the sound of the crickets outside my window.
That was before they stopped. Then the taps got louder. Just enough for me to pause. For a second, I thought about going over and pushing the door open. Instead, I went and closed the window.
That wasn't the worst of it, though. Listening to the thing in my study slowly form itself—hearing its bones crack into place and its flesh squelching as it slowly piles and piles and piles and how all throughout it just continued breathing, and breathing, and breathing, heavier and heavier, like it couldn't even understand that it was supposed to be in pain.
Which means it couldn't have been the source of the screaming.
January 10th, 1977
I've been taking a few of those pills; the ones that make you forget. I requested some from work, lied about where I got them and everything. Said my daughter saw a ghost. My daughter hasn't lived here for weeks. I sent all of the kids off to their grandparents for a while. Told them it was for the job. I guess I wasn't lying.The pills haven't done much of anything. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face again.
January 12th, 1977
Last night, I saw a dark shape in the corner of my room. Standing there, like a shadow, over the bed, staring at me. Red eyes and heavy breathing. I turned on the light, and it dissipated. Back off, and it came back on. I started yelling at it. Turned into screaming. It shifted for a second, rolled its eyes back into its skull. I watched as its mouth clicked open and a stream of red grapeshot poured out like blood. They didn't disappear when I turned the lights back on. Each one stained the carpet. They were all indented. Must have hit something.
I was up all night after that.
January 13th, 1977
The shadow was back again. Not fully formed—just projected on the wall. I watched it creep across the head of my bed, honed by some sourceless light. It slid over my headboard and plucked a musket from the hands of an unseen figure. It walked up to 3 men, their heads covered with bags. Shot them one by one. They fell and hit the wooden bed-frame, and they bled. Real blood. It dripped down and hit my head in individual droplets, over and over and over. One after the other. I didn't get up or move for hours. I finally forced myself to when I saw the dawn crack through the window and wash away the shadows. The bed was stained and wet. Felt like lying on mud.
I can get someone to come clean it up. Later.
January 17th, 1977
I had to get rid of some vermin today. They were swarming around the thing… biting off little chunks of its flesh and chewing on the outgrown bones. It got a few of the rats, but the rest…
The fly problem has been getting worse and worse. I locked the door to the bathroom, but they've been pouring out from under it. Squishing and squirming out in piles of dead and living flesh. I'll hire an exterminator when I get the chance. I can't open the door.
It's been growing well, at least. Sometimes I wish I could use the study again, though.
The real issue has been the vermin. They've been all around the house, eating the food in the cabinet. I've seen them scramble from my bed when I turn the lights on, sucking the blood from the bed-sheets. Too many rats.
January 20th, 1977
Been a while since I've shown up for work. People have been coming by. I told them to go fuck themselves. They can replace me anyway, with one of those things they have. They'll understand once they see the results. The great leader to usher in a century of prosperity.
January 24th, 1977
Haven't been out in a while. Getting harder and harder to find food in here. At least there's still plenty of meat for it.
January 28th, 1977
It can't speak yet, but it's forming up well. There's a great hunger in its his eyes. Strength and virtue. True qualities of a great leader. He's grown to eating everything around him, so he's at least cleaning up some of the vermin in the study. It's good to see.
The shadow came back again last night. Solid again. Towering over the bed on a horse. The horse was standing on the backs of some people. They were getting crushed under its weight, wheezing and moaning, but not screaming. Not crying. Just blank.
One by one, I heard their backs crack. Couldn't stand the pressure. They just fell against the floor.
January 31st, 1977
Had to catch and eat some of the rats. Saving the last of the good food for him.
February 6th, 1977
Flies everywhere. I can barely breathe in anymore. The rats don't even scatter when I turn the lights on. I slept on the floor last night. The bed was molding from the blood. Shouldn't breathe that in. That's what my wife used to say.
I'm letting him out of the study.
The replacement used by the US Government to pretend to be James Earl Carter up until his death. All analysis has failed to produce results for what this replication may be.
Following this, James Earl Carter was partially consumed by SCP-9776. The United States Secret Service would eventually perform a wellness check on James Earl Carter's home after neighbors complained of a vile smell emanating from the premises. The UIU (and later Pentagram) would become involved with the management of SCP-9776. For a significant period of time, the UIU would attempt to hold the anomaly in their custody. They would suffer from repeated breaches of containment, oftentimes handled by Pentagram. This would eventually lead to Pentagram becoming involved with SCP-9776, leading to the creation of the structure under the Washington Monument. This succeeded in lowering the escape rate; however, one particularly destructive breach would lead to the president requesting Foundation involvement. Foundation programs have been successful in reducing breaches by a further 97%.
The Foundation does not currently know who or what the US government used to replace James Earl Carter. The US government has been entirely unwilling to disclose this information, despite repeated inquiry.