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Chapter Text

“She wanted the world to stop; the world obliged with a meteor.”

The woman climbed the mountain that night.
The night of August 8 was quiet, the kind of quiet she wanted for what would come next. She made her way to her favorite tree, sat beneath its boughs, and prepared.

Serene. Peaceful.

Just how she wanted it to end.

She rummaged through her bag and retrieved two Glocks. She had thought it all through: one to the temple, one to the mouth. She would make it swift, sure, no chance of ending up as a half-dead husk.

She raised both barrels, steady hands betraying the storm inside her, and pulled the triggers.

Two sharp cracks broke the silence. Her body slumped, blood spilling into the roots.

For a moment, she felt only the terrible, perfect stillness she had been chasing. Finally, a sweet release. Eternal peace. No more suffering. It was the best birthday gift she could give herself. Ironic, maybe, but the only answer she had.

Or so it should have been.

Meanwhile, further down the slope, a group of operatives and researchers scanned the skies. For days, reports of an incoming meteorite had dominated the channels, its descent charted with unnerving precision. Now its trajectory pointed directly to Mt. Ugo, Itogon, Benguet, Philippines, and the team was here to anticipate its landfall.

They weren’t civilians. They weren’t astronomers. They were the Foundation. The SCP Foundation.

Operating worldwide, beyond conventional jurisdiction, tasked with containing the anomalous, preserving normalcy, and ensuring humanity lived without fear, mistrust, or doubt. This meteorite had the potential to be more than just rock and fire. It could be anomalous, and if so, it was theirs to secure.

Above them, the night cracked open. The meteor roared down in a streak of fire.

Impact Event Log UGO-Alpha-00
 Personnel: Mobile Task Force Sigma-6 (“Sundowners”)
 Location: Mt. Ugo, Itogon, Benguet, Philippines
 Date: 08/08/20██ (19:55)

[19:55] [Distant echo picked up on field mics: two gunshots from upper ridge.]
Op-1: “Command, registering weapons discharge, direction north ridge.”
Command: “Logged. Investigate after impact. Primary objective remains meteor.”

[19:57] [Command over radio]: “Impact in T-minus five. All units hold perimeter.”

[19:58] [Ground tremors; meteor strikes; loud detonation.]
Op-4: “Impact confirmed! Crater radius expanding, approx. one-fifty meters! Minimal civilian presence. Advancing.”

[20:01] [Command]: “Proceed to crater. Sweep the ridge once the anomaly is secured.”

[20:01] [End log segment]

The impact came exactly as predicted. After the blast, the team climbed the slope to inspect the crater, where the soil had fractured into sheets of glass that glowed faintly as smoke curled into the sky. Pools of black water rippled with reflected firelight. That was when they found her, bloodied, slumped, still clutching both pistols. At first, they assumed she was dead, horror rising as they prepared to recover the body.

Recovery Log UGO-Alpha-01
 Helmet Cam Transcript — Op-2
 Date: 08/08/20██ (20:04)

Op-3: “Visual contact. Subject located. Human female. Approximate age mid-to-late twenties. Still clutching two firearms. Position consistent with gunshot origin.”

Command: “Civ casualty? At the epicenter?”

Op-2: “Affirmative. Body intact, but heavy trauma. She should be dust this close to ground zero.”

[Camera pans: blood spatter, cranial damage visible. Subject unmoving.]

Op-2: “Checking vitals… yeah, she’s done. Bagging—”

[Pause. Heartbeat monitor faintly beeps.]

Op-2: “…Negative. Pulse detected. Weak, but steady.”

Command: [after silence] “…Priority-one anomalous. Prep immediate containment evac.”

Op-1: [quietly] “Sir… her eyes just moved.”

[End transmission.]

They strapped her to the stretcher. No one spoke. In the water pooled beside the crater, her reflection lingered unnaturally, blinking after she had gone still.

By the time they descended, not one operative mentioned it aloud.

Medical Observation Log UGO-Alpha-02
 Location: Site-██, Medical Wing — Secure Room 3
 Date: 08/08/20██ — 08:12

Nurse MJ: “Vitals stabilized. Subject sustained catastrophic head trauma, but neural activity… registering anomalous.”

Dr. Santos: “She put two bullets through her skull. We have radiographs to prove it. Explain to me how she’s breathing.”

Nurse MJ: “I can’t. I’m telling you what the monitors say. It’s like… tissue is reforming. Regenerative activity, but not biological as we know it.”

Dr. Santos: “Keep her under sedation. If she wakes, notify Command.”

[Pause — alarm beeps. Subject stirs. Monitors spike.]

Nurse MJ: “Doctor, she’s conscious.”

[End log.]

The woman woke in a sterile room, ceiling lamps burning white above her. She blinked, throat dry, and for a moment, she wondered if it had worked after all.

But she could feel the weight of her body, the cold in her chest, the sting of tape where IV lines had failed to take.

Still alive.
Why?

Why was she still here?

Chapter Text

Clinical Incident Log — UGO-Alpha-03

 Document Type: Medical Intake Interview & Incident Logs
 Location: Site-██, Medical Wing — Secure Room 3
 Date: 09/08/20██

Foreword
The following transcripts document the initial containment and evaluation of an unidentified female recovered at the site of a meteorite impact at Mt. Ugo, Philippines. During medical intake, the subject exhibited repeated self-harm attempts, leading to direct observation of anomalous regenerative properties. The addenda are presented chronologically, beginning with the first interview and extending through subsequent incidents.

Addendum UGO-Alpha-03-1 — Initial Interview (09/08/20██, 10:42)

Personnel: Dr. Carlo Santos

[Transcript — Intake Interview (Excerpt)]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Doctor: “Good morning. Can you hear me?”

Patient: “…Where am I? Am I not dead?”

Doctor: “You’re in a medical facility. My name is Dr. Carlo Santos. I’ll be conducting your intake evaluation. You were found near the site of a meteorite impact at Mt. Ugo. Do you remember anything?”

Patient: “I… I thought I had already ended my life. I thought I already killed myself.”

Dr. Santos: “I understand that’s what this may look like on the surface. We found you at the impact site, beneath a tree, still holding two handguns. There was blood at the scene.”

Patient: (flat) "I placed two Glocks, one in my mouth and the other pressed to my left temple. I pulled the triggers. I lay there. I— I was dead."

Dr. Santos: “We heard the gunshots. Our teams were on perimeter duty; there was a meteorite tracked toward Mt. Ugo, and it was due in roughly five minutes. We were ordered to hold our positions and observe. There was no time to secure the site before impact. When the meteorite fell, teams converged and found you lying motionless at the exact location of impact. The meteorite impacted where you had been.”

Dr. Santos: “When you were transported here, you were still covered in blood, and you were still holding the firearms. EMTs documented that your head appeared reconstructed on initial observation. Initial imaging and labs here are returning normal; there are no fatal wounds visible right now.”

Patient: “Normal? How— I bled. I should be dead. I— I killed myself.”

Dr. Santos: “The scene suggested possible fatal injury, yes. But your current scans and blood work do not show injuries consistent with fatal trauma. Because of where you were found and the meteorite’s proximity, we need to run additional tests. We suspect the meteorite’s fall may be related to whatever occurred.”

Patient: (dismissive) “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t care. Nothing matters anymore.”

Dr. Santos: “I understand you’re distressed. I need to ask a few questions to document your care. Do you have identification? What is your name?”

Patient: (bitter laugh) “What am I doing here?? I thought I had already ended my life. I thought I already killed myself. But why did my plan fail? Why am I... alive??”

Dr. Santos: (gestures to the symbol on his jacket) “We are the SCP Foundation. This insignia identifies us. We found you at the meteorite impact site. For records and to coordinate your care, we need either a legal name or a preferred name.”

Patient: (stares at the SCP symbol on the doctor’s jacket) “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dr. Santos: “For the record: you were found near a meteorite impact at Mt. Ugo, covered in blood, still holding two pistols. You were transported here for evaluation because your vitals and scans are inexplicable compared to the scene. We are concerned you may have become anomalous after the meteorite fell.”

Patient: (angry) “What are you talking about? What anomaly?? What are you??”

Dr. Santos: “We oversee and study anomalous phenomena. Because of the meteorite and the circumstances in which you were found, we must keep you under observation and perform tests. Right now, do you consent to examinations and observation?”

Patient: (shrugs) “Fine. Do whatever. If you want to run experiments on me, go ahead. I don’t care anymore. I’m a corpse who somehow woke up.”

Dr. Santos: “We will treat you as a patient first, but we must also ensure safety. For now, we need you to remain here. If at any point you feel distress, tell staff immediately.”

[END LOG.]

Observation: Subject displays disbelief, emotional detachment, and recurring fixation on the self-inflicted trauma.

Addendum UGO-Alpha-03-2 — Self-Harm Incident (09/08/20██, 11:03)

Personnel: Medical Staff, Security, Dr. Carlo Santos

[Incident Record]

~20 minutes after initial interview, subject entered restroom. Breaking glass was heard; staff rushed to door.

[BEGIN LOG.]
[Door bursts open. Patient stands clutching a shard of mirror, blood streaming from left wrist.]

Patient: (breathing heavily) “Hah… damn…”

Patient: (gritting teeth) “Stay away! Don’t come near me!”

Patient: (shocked) “Wh-what… it’s… it’s fixing itself.”

Dr. Santos: (shouting) “Don’t— don’t do that! Medical team, code! Get airway, breathing, circulation now!”

Patient: “Watch. I told you I was dead. I tested it. See? Blood.”

Dr. Santos: (alarmed) “Medical team, prepare for hemorrhage control. Does it hurt?”

Patient: (breathing heavily) “It hurts. It hurts, but look. (watches) It’s healing.”

Dr. Santos: (to nurse) “Observe: the wound is clotting and closing rapidly. Tissue regeneration is occurring faster than normal. The wound is reconstructing before our eyes; dressing is unnecessary for closure.”

Patient: (panic rising) “I put two Glocks in my mouth and in my head. I pulled the triggers. I lay there. I was dead. And now, now it’s like I’m not even hurt. What is this? Immortal? Resistant? What?”

Dr. Santos: “We can’t draw definitive conclusions yet. We’re seeing rapid healing and lack of persistent traumatic injuries consistent with what was reported at the scene. This is why we’re keeping you under observation. For your safety and ours, we need to limit further self-harm while we study your condition. We’re going to place temporary restraints so we can perform controlled testing and treatment.”

Patient: (laughing through tears) “Restraints. So theatrical. Fine. Restrain me. I’m already dead. I already tested it. My wrist healed in about a minute. I’ll show you more.”

Dr. Santos: (calm) “We will administer appropriate care. Restraints are temporary and medically indicated given the risk. We need to be methodical and careful.”

Patient: (raises shard to her neck) “If you want proof, watch this.”

[Subject drives shard into her own throat. Collapses immediately. Alarms trigger. Medical staff swarm the room. Despite heavy blood loss, vitals stabilize within minutes; by the time restraints are applied, wound has fully closed.]

[END LOG.]

Note: Subject demonstrates rapid regeneration and disregard for own survival. Full restraint authorized.

Addendum UGO-Alpha-03-3 — Post-Incident Awakening (09/08/20██, 15:22)

Personnel: Dr. Carlo Santos

[Transcript — Recovery Interview]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Patient: (groggy) “Arm and leg restraints? What now? Am I now in a mental hospital?”

Dr. Santos: “You were restrained after you self-inflicted multiple severe wounds and lost consciousness. We stabilized you and monitored you. Imaging shows no fatal structural damage consistent with the events reported at the scene. Your wounds, both the wrist incisions and the neck puncture, began reconstructing rapidly; clinically, we observed tissue regeneration and wound closure far faster than normal. Because of the risk you presented to yourself and the anomalous characteristics, we must keep you under observation.”

Patient: (bitter, incredulous) “So what is the verdict? Immortality? For real? I wanted to die, and now I’m given eternal life. WHAT THE FUCK IS THE UNIVERSE TRYING TO TELL ME??!!! SUCK IT AILEEN?!!”

Dr. Santos: “We cannot call it “immortality” definitively yet. Early signs indicate rapid tissue regeneration and lack of scarring. Given the meteorite impact correlation, we treat this as a potential anomalous case. Also… was that your name?”

Patient: “It was my name… when I was still human.”

Dr. Santos: (hesitates) “If you don’t want your legal name used on records, you may choose a preferred name. It helps with communication and dignity.”

Patient: (flat, defiant) “Whatever. Why does it matter?”

Dr. Santos: “Names anchor care. They humanize charts. They make it easier for staff to treat you as a person rather than a case.”

Patient: (looks at hands; bitter smile) “Fine. Call me Nasya.”

Dr. Santos: (writes) “Nasya. Understood.”

Patient (now Nasya): (smaller laugh) “There. That’s my name. You people made a big mistake giving me a name again.”

Dr. Santos: “Nasya, I will personally oversee your care plan and try to maximize your autonomy where it is safe. We will continue examinations and interviews to build a clear clinical picture. Will you answer further questions for baseline records?”

Nasya: (flat, defiant) “Ask. I’ll answer. But don’t lock me up forever. Don’t treat me like a permanent lab rat. If you cross me, I’ll make you regret it.”

Dr. Santos: “We are required to prioritize safety. If you experience urges to harm yourself again, notify staff immediately. Mental health support is included as part of care.”

Nasya: (quiet) “For now.”

[END LOG.]

Note: Subject accepts identifier “Nasya.” Tone alternates between defiance and despair.

Addendum UGO-Alpha-03-4 — Secondary Interview: Recollection (09/08/20██, 18:47)

Personnel: Dr. Carlo Santos

[Transcript — Memory Assessment]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Dr. Santos: “Do you remember the sequence before the meteorite impact? The events at Mt. Ugo? You mentioned a tree.”

Nasya: “I always go there. For the last year, I was there, collecting poisonous mushrooms and making concoctions. They… they worked — the people I wanted dead, they’re dead. That tree… when I first saw it, I knew it’d be the one to consume my dead body in the years to come. I wanted sure finality. I had two Glocks. That was my plan for a sure, clean end. I pulled the triggers. I lay still. I woke up here, still bloody, still holding the guns. I thought I killed myself.”

Dr. Santos: (softly) “Why did you… why did you choose that day?”

Nasya: (bitter laugh) “Because it would be tidy. August 08. My birthday. A small symmetry... I wanted the world to stop.”

Dr. Santos: (quiet) “And the world did not stop for you.”

Nasya: (hard) “No. It laughed.”

Dr. Santos: (soft) “Did you see the meteorite approaching? Did you notice anything unusual in the sky?”

Nasya: (short) “I think I did? The sky was brighter that night, but I didn’t pay much mind. Nothing matters anymore. I stopped looking at the news. I stopped caring. I didn’t notice it clearly. I only remember laying there, then nothing, then I woke up here.”

Dr. Santos: “We will catalog all details. We retrieved fragments from the meteorite; they show unusual isotopic and crystalline properties. We’re running further analysis. Do you have any history of medical conditions, medications, or substance use we should know about?”

Nasya: (flat) “I had gastritis and esophagitis. I took tegoprazan, simethicone, and alverine citrate. I drank a lot. I was an alcoholic.”

Dr. Santos: “Thank you. Tests we ran indicate that your previous medical conditions are now resolved. Your organs and bloodwork show no signs of prior illnesses. This appears to be part of your anomalous state.”

Nasya: (quiet, hollow) “So even my scars are gone. Figures.”

[END LOG.]

Note: Subject acknowledges long psychiatric history, multiple prior suicide attempts, and indifference to current containment. Expresses resentment at survival.

Following the intake and subsequent observation of the subject on 09/08/20██, a provisional report has been compiled for internal review. The following document condenses the incident into Foundation procedural format for classification and containment purposes.

Provisional Observation Summary — Subject “Nasya”

Item #: Pending (Candidate for SCP-Designation)
Object Class: Euclid (Provisional)

Special Containment Procedures

Subject is to remain under medical observation at Site-██, Medical Wing, in a secured humanoid containment suite. Arm and leg restraints are authorized during sleep cycles and evaluations until self-harm risk is reduced. Standard Level-3 security clearance required for direct interaction.

All tests regarding tissue regeneration, resistance to trauma, and correlation with meteorite fragments require O5 authorization.

Description

Unidentified female, self-designated Nasya, was discovered near the meteorite impact site at Mt. Ugo, Philippines, on ██/08/20██. Subject was found covered in blood, in possession of two Glock handguns. Scene evidence suggested fatal cranial gunshot wounds; however, subject presented no lasting injuries on intake.

During medical evaluation, subject demonstrated:

• Rapid regenerative ability (closure of self-inflicted wrist laceration within ~60 seconds).
• Recovery from fatal trauma (immediate unconsciousness following self-inflicted neck puncture; upon stabilization, no lasting injury observed).
• Resistance to anesthesia and amnestics (confirmed during follow-up tests, see Addendum Nasya-1).
• Restoration of previous health conditions (gastritis, esophagitis, and alcohol-related damage absent).

Subject displays depressive affect, suicidal ideation, and expressed anger regarding survival. Despite initial hostility, subject agreed to provide limited cooperation under the chosen name Nasya.

Clinical Incident Log — UGO-Alpha-03 09/08/20██ — Addendum 1–4 for transcripts

Relevant excerpts confirm subject’s anomalous regenerative ability, resistance to sedation/amnestics, and psychological state.

Notes

• Subject under continuous medical observation; evaluation ongoing.
• Meteorite fragments recovered from the site show anomalous isotopic and crystalline structures. Testing for correlation with subject’s condition is ongoing.

Following initial medical evaluation and confirmation of anomalous regenerative properties, subject has been placed under continuous observation. Daily logs of behavior, vital signs, and anomalous phenomena are documented below.

Addendum Nasya-1 — Daily Observation Logs

 Subject: Nasya
 Location: Site-██, Medical Wing — Secure Room 3
 Observing Personnel: Dr. Carlo Santos, Dr. ██████

Day 1 — Intake and Initial Observation
Dr. Santos: “For the records, please provide your full details.”
Nasya: “Date of birth — August 08, 19██. That’s it. That’s the only information you all need to know of my personal life. You don’t need to know anything more.”

Observation: Staff exchange confused glances. Nasya’s physical appearance is striking: youthful and vibrant, seeming to have just reached adulthood, yet her eyes are empty, conveying decades of experience and emptiness.

Dr. Santos’ Note: Despite claiming to be 40 years old, subject appears physiologically in early adulthood. Observed anomalous effect: ability to maintain youthful appearance despite chronological age.

Nasya: “I live in Manila. That’s all.” (Refuses further details.)

Day 2 — Psychoanalysis and Behavioral Assessment
During initial interviews and psychological evaluation, Nasya admits she is a PWD and has a history of bipolar disorder, frequently manifesting depressive episodes and psychosis. She also recounts multiple prior suicide attempts.

Nasya: “…I tried before. Many times. But I… succeeded… sort of.”

Dr. Santos’ Note: Subject’s demeanor is emotionally flat, with occasional bitter laughter, but cooperative when discussing tests.

Day 3 — Standard Vital Signs Testing
Nasya’s vitals remain within normal limits; no abnormalities detected.

Dr. Santos: “Are you willing to undergo tests for wound resistance?”
Nasya: “Yes… but anesthesia. I don’t want the pain.”

Procedure: Anesthesia administered. Small incision was made on her palm. Despite anesthesia, subject screams in pain.

Dr. Santos’ Note: Subject displays resistance to anesthetics. Wound heals rapidly; no scarring observed. Additional testing reveals resistance to amnestics, commonly used to erase civilian memory of anomalous events.

Day 4 — Observation and Discussion of Anomalous Properties
News of Nasya’s regenerative abilities and resistance to anesthesia/amnestics reached Dr. Bright, who reportedly expedited clearance and travel arrangements specifically to witness “the girl from Mt. Ugo” firsthand. His sudden arrival caught most staff off guard and shifted the direction of the session.

Dr. Bright (to Nasya): “Fascinating… you’re immortal, right? You don’t even need a pendant like me. Really interesting.”
Dr. Bright (to Dr. Santos): “She’s going to be a great asset to the Foundation. Think about it, Santos — she can make a breakthrough!”

Dr. Santos (concerned): “You can’t do this to her. These experiments will hurt her, physically and mentally.”
Dr. Bright: “She’s immortal. What could she possibly lose?”

Observation: Nasya listens quietly, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

Day 5 — Introduction to Other Anomalies
Nasya: “...So there are others like me?”
Dr. Bright: “Many. Some dangerous, some… people like you.”
Nasya: “I’m in.”
Dr. Santos: “Are you sure? These tests—”
Nasya (interrupts, flat): “What could I lose now anyway? I’m already DEAD, doctor. I want the list. Take me to the records.”

Procedure: Dr. Bright secures supervised access to redacted files despite Dr. Santos’ objections. Subject reviews anomalies for several hours, showing strongest interest in sentient or regenerative cases. Early exposure may foster fixation.

Day 6–7 — Accommodation Requests and Personal Arrangements
Nasya: “Listen, if I’m going to be here, I want decent accommodations. A big room, like a bungalow. Loft bed; under it, I want my gaming setup. No exceptions.”
Dr. Santos (slightly concerned): “A loft bed? Gaming PC?”
Nasya: “Yes. Full setup. Restroom: proper toilet, shower, bathtub. Homey feel. I won’t break the mirrors this time, promise.”

Nasya (pacing slightly): “Kitchen. I need a fridge, ingredients, everything for my food. Chocolates. Sweets. Enough to last a week, at least. And… I want a TV. Streaming platforms, maybe the news sometimes. I want to know what’s happening out there. If the world is ending… or if I somehow ended up in the news as a missing person.”

Dr. Santos (hesitant): “The Foundation may need to review those requests… we can’t guarantee unrestricted access to the internet or news.”
Nasya (smirks, voice calm but threatening): “Fine. But let me make it clear, if you deny me, it’ll be costly. I’ll make sure of that. I’ll spare you, doctor. You’ve been gentle and nice.”

Nasya (folds arms): “Oh, and clothes. No more hospital gowns. I want black, only black. Ripped jeans, heavy boots, band shirts. Especially Avenged Sevenfold. That’s non-negotiable.”
Dr. Santos (blinking, scribbling notes): “Specificity… noted. Any reason why only black?”
Nasya (without hesitation): “Because it’s my favorite color.”
Dr. Bright (grinning): “Favorite color, huh? Most people say blue or red. You just went straight to ‘the void.’”
Nasya (smirks): “Exactly.”

Nasya (leans forward, more casual): “And for staying in, I want proper pambahay. Short shorts, soft shirts, maybe a sando. And slippers. I’m not living in gowns forever.”
Dr. Santos (quirks an eyebrow, half-smile): “Pambahay, huh.”
Dr. Bright (frowning slightly): “…Pambahay? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nasya (snorts, amused): “Home clothes. The stuff you actually live in, not hospital rags. If you grew up in the Philippines, you’d know.”

Dr. Santos (murmurs, still writing): “She’s not wrong.”
Dr. Bright (grinning, mock-offended): “Hey, don’t look at me. I’ll take a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops over short shorts any day.”

Nasya (deadpan): “Please never wear short shorts.”

Observation: Subject asserts clear preference for style and comfort. Requests include detailed room layout (loft bed, gaming area, kitchen, and living space), as well as specific clothing: goth aesthetic (all black, band shirts, boots) paired with cultural home attire. Demonstrates humor and rapport with attending staff despite otherwise defiant tone.

Containment Status Update — SCP-9999 “Nasya”

Item #: SCP-9999
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-9999 is to remain in secured medical accommodations at Site-██ pending transfer. Observation continues with standard anomalous protocol. Psychological support is provided; all requests are reviewed on a case-by-case basis to ensure safety and compliance. Following preliminary evaluation and containment assessment, SCP-9999 is to be transported to Site-17, where long-term containment, medical observation, and research will take place. Site-17’s infrastructure and medical personnel are designated to manage SCP-9999’s complex needs and anomalous behavior.

Description: SCP-9999 is a human female, self-identified as Nasya. Exhibits anomalous regenerative capabilities and resistance to anesthetics and amnestics. Chronological age ~40 years; physiological age appears significantly younger. Displays heightened cognitive awareness, strategic behavior, and autonomy. SCP-9999 has a history of severe self-harm, bipolar disorder, and prior suicidal attempts.

Recovery Log: SCP-9999 was recovered following a meteorite impact at Mt. Ugo on ██/08/20██. EMTs and Site-██ personnel documented immediate resuscitation post-trauma. Initial testing confirmed tissue regeneration and lack of persistent injury consistent with reported trauma.

Notes: Subject formally designated SCP-9999 following observed anomalous regeneration, extreme self-harm incident, and continued physiological irregularities correlated with meteorite exposure.

Chapter Text

Containment Transfer Log — SCP-9999-1

 Origin: Site-██, Medical Wing, Philippines Branch
 Destination: Site-19, Secure Containment

Reason for Transfer:

Following initial containment and observation at Site-██’s Medical Wing (Philippines branch), Dr. Bright submitted a proposal for cross-testing SCP-9999 (“Nasya”) with other high-risk anomalies. Although Site-17 had been identified as the subject’s intended long-term containment site, Dr. Bright requested a temporary detour to Site-19 on the grounds of its concentration of high-profile SCPs and greater cross-testing opportunities. The proposal was reviewed and authorized by Site-██’s director, with final clearance issued by the O5 Council.

Special Provision:

At SCP-9999’s insistence, Dr. Santos (attending physician and primary researcher since initial containment) was reassigned to accompany her. Subject displayed strong attachment to Dr. Santos, explicitly threatening repeated self-termination, non-cooperation, and potential harm to staff if separated. Given her anomalous properties and risk of disruption, Site Administration approved his transfer.

[Scene Transcript: Debrief before Transport]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Dr. Bright: (grinning) “Well, kid, good news. No need to wait until Site-17. We’re shipping you straight to the big leagues. Site-19.”

Nasya: (arching brow) “Site-19? That’s where you keep most of your nightmares, right? The real fun ones?”

Dr. Santos: (hesitant) “It’s where we keep the most dangerous anomalies. I… I’m not convinced this is wise.”

Nasya: (turning sharply to Dr. Bright) “And he’s coming with me. No Dr. Santos, no cooperation. I’ve made that clear. I won’t… I won’t survive this transfer otherwise. And if you try to leave me alone, I won’t just hurt myself… I’ll hurt whoever gets in my way.”

Dr. Santos: (visibly shaken, voice tight) “Nasya… please, calm down.”

Nasya: (crossing arms, tone sharp) “Calm down? You think I’m bluffing? You know I’ve done worse. You want chaos? That’s what I’ll give.”

Dr. Bright: (sighing, rubbing her temples) “Easy, Nasya. Santos is coming. Nobody’s leaving anyone behind. Take a breath.”

Nasya: (smirking faintly, but still tense) “Good."

Dr. Santos: (nodding slowly, relieved) “Alright… I’ll go. Together.”

[END LOG.]

[Log Excerpt — Pre-Departure, Site-██]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Dr. Bright: (smirking) “Bags packed, Santos? You’re coming with us. Consider it a promotion.”

Dr. Santos: (flatly) “Or coerced into it. She won’t budge without me.”

Nasya: (grinning, arms crossed) “Exactly. He’s my ticket. No Dr. Santos, no cooperation. Your choice.”

Dr. Bright: “And people say I’m the difficult one.”

[END LOG.]

[Transport Details]

• Subject escorted under MTF Psi-9 ("Abyss Gazers") supervision.
• Departure: Clark Air Base, Pampanga. Transport via the Foundation's private jet.
• Dr. Bright, Dr. Santos, and containment team in attendance.
• Emergency protocols in place (amnestic vials, stasis capsule, lethal force authorized).
• Subject declined sedation, remained calm throughout.

Notable Behavior:

• Spent majority of flight gazing out the window, humming, at one point remarking: “If I can’t die, even falling from here won’t do it.
  
• Minimal conversation outside brief exchanges with Dr. Santos and Dr. Bright. Ignored most other staff.

Arrival:
Safe transfer confirmed. Subject was transferred under armed escort to Site-19’s Secure Containment Wing, pending initiation of controlled SCP interaction trials... 

Field Testing Logs — SCP-9999

 Document Type: Cross-Exposure Trial Records
 Location: Site-19, Secure Containment Wing
 Personnel: Dr. Jack Bright, Dr. Carlo Santos, MTF Psi-9 (“Abyss Gazers”), MTF Epsilon-11 (“Nine-Tailed Fox”), MTF Tau-9 ("Bookworms"), MTF Alpha-1 (“Red Right Hand”), Dr. Zyn Kiryu, Dr. Milton, D-44678, D-2739
 Date: ██/08/20██

Foreword
Upon successful transfer of SCP-9999 to Site-19, O5 Command authorized a series of controlled cross-exposure trials. The purpose of these tests was twofold: to evaluate SCP-9999’s anomalous resilience when confronted with high-risk anomalies, and to determine her potential utility in future containment operations.

Due to SCP-9999’s demonstrated regenerative properties, proposed interactions will be conducted under the direct supervision of Dr. Jack Bright and Dr. Carlo Santos. Special precautions have been mandated given the subject’s unstable psychological profile, recurrent suicidal ideation, and tendency toward noncompliance.

The following logs detail SCP-9999’s initial encounters with several high-priority anomalies contained at Site-19. These trials represent the Foundation’s first systematic effort to quantify her threat potential and operational value.

— Site-19 Scientific Department

Addendum 9999-1 — SCP-173 Exposure Test

Personnel: Dr. Jack Bright, Dr. Carlo Santos, MTF Epsilon-11 (“Nine-Tailed Fox”), Two Class-D Personnel

[Transcript — SCP-173 Exposure Test]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Dr. Bright: “This one’s called Peanut. Cute, right? Real sweetheart once you get to know him.”
Nasya: (chuckling) “Pfft. Cute. Sure.”

[SCP-9999 entered the chamber accompanied by two Class-D personnel. Subject eyes them warily.]

Nasya: “Aren’t those death row inmates? What if they do something to me?”
Dr. Bright: “Relax, Nasya. If anyone gets funny, Peanut’ll snap their necks faster than I can respawn. Trust me; he’s way scarier than they are.”
Dr. Santos: (nervous) “I… I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

[Class-D personnel are briefed and instructed to enter the containment chamber with SCP-173 and SCP-9999. Task involves maintaining direct line-of-sight while observing Subject interaction.]

D-2739: “What’s your deal, young lady?”
Nasya: (squints at him) “How old are you, young man?”
D-2739: “Uh… 32?”
Nasya: (scoffing) “And you dare call me young lady? I’m 40.”

[Class-D personnel exchange glances, surprised, but continue to alternate blinking to maintain visual contact with SCP-173. SCP-9999 moves closer to SCP-173, blinking deliberately in its face.]

Dr. Bright: (awed) “She might… actually be immune to anomalies too.”
Dr. Santos: (panicked) “Don’t push it, Bright!”

Nasya, irritated by the Class-D’s cautious behavior, suddenly shouts:
Nasya: “Get out! Remove them. Let me deal with it alone.”

[The Class-D hesitate but remain pressed against the chamber walls. At T+03:47, Subject turns away from SCP-173. SCP-173 immediately advances and applies cervical fracture. SCP-9999 collapses; vitals cease.]

Dr. Santos: (panicking) “Get her out! NOW!”
Dr. Bright: (disappointed) “Ah… she might not be immune to other anomalies after all. Oh well… let’s wait.”

[At T+04:48, SCP-9999 revives. By this point, the Class-D personnel have been escorted out of the chamber. SCP-173 remains motionless, showing no further aggression. Subject is left alone; SCP-173 appears to ignore her completely.]

Dr. Bright: (stunned, then laughing) “Oh-ho! Look at that, Peanut’s giving her the silent treatment. Guess even statues know when they’ve met their match.”
Dr. Santos: (stunned) “I… I don’t understand.”
Nasya: (frustrated, shouting at SCP-173) “But whyyyyy!”

[END LOG.]

Addendum 9999-2 — SCP-096 Exposure Test

Personnel: Dr. Jack Bright, Dr. Carlo Santos, MTF Epsilon-11 (“Nine-Tailed Fox”), MTF Psi-9 (“Abyss Gazers”), Dr. Zyn Kiryu, Dr. Milton

[Transcript — SCP-096 Exposure Test]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Pre-test notes: SCP-096 is secured in Cell-5. SCP-9999 is placed in Testing Cell-2 with a chair, table, and sealed envelope. Observation via armored glass; only thermal and grayscale feeds permitted. Containment corridors rated for high stress.

Dr. Bright: “Alright, Nasya. Envelope’s on the table. Only you get the sneak peek; spoilers ruin the fun.”
Nasya: (raising an eyebrow) “This is Shy Guy, right?”
Dr. Bright: “Ding ding ding! Santos, pay up.”
Dr. Santos: (tight) “Bright, this isn’t a game—”
Dr. Bright: “Everything’s a game, Santos. That’s how I stay sane. Well… sane-ish.”

[SCP-9999 opens the envelope. Contents: photographic print depicting SCP-096’s face.]

Dr. Bright: (smirking) “Well, this should be entertaining. He’s coming.”
Nasya: (calmly) “Oh welp. I’m waiting.”

[From Cell-5, wailing escalates into rapid impacts as SCP-096 breaches both buffer chambers en route to Testing Cell-2. Containment corridor alarms trigger as structures sustain severe stress. At T+00:25, Subject collapses suddenly following an unseen strike; vitals cease.]

Dr. Santos: (gripping console) “Bright, she’s down!”
Dr. Bright: (calm) “Give it a minute. Respawn timers, Santos. Patience.”

[At T+01:26, SCP-9999 revives, fully healed. SCP-096 is observed crouched in the corner, sobbing. Agitated state terminated.]

Nasya: (approaching) “Are you crying because you thought you killed me?”

[SCP-096 raises its head. No hostile response triggered. SCP-096 vocalizes weakly and pulls SCP-9999 into a trembling embrace, brushing Subject’s abdomen as if apologizing.]

Nasya: (softly) “It’s okay, big guy. I understand your circumstances. It’s okay.”

[SCP-9999 pats SCP-096 on the head. SCP-096 remains docile, maintaining eye contact without aggression.]

Dr. Bright: (grinning) “Well I’ll be damned. She broke the rules, and made a friend. I’m running out of betting money here.”
Dr. Santos: (quiet, unsettled) “She’s… not human. Not anymore.”

 [END LOG.]

Addendum 9999-3 — SCP-035 Exposure Test

Personnel: Dr. Jack Bright, Dr. Carlo Santos, MTF Psi-9 (“Abyss Gazers”), MTF Tau-9 (“Bookworms”), Dr. Zyn Kiryu, Dr. Milton

[Transcript — SCP-035 Exposure Test]

[BEGIN LOG.]

[Chamber door opens. SCP-9999 enters, accompanied by Dr. Bright and Dr. Santos. SCP-035 rests on its pedestal, ichor dripping onto the floor.]

Nasya (wrinkling her nose): “Ugh. You’d think they’d clean this place once in a while. Looks like a freshman dorm bathroom.”
SCP-035 (sly, melodic): “Ah… company. And such fresh company at that. You look weary, little vessel. I can take that weariness away. Just… put me on.”

Dr. Santos (measured): “Just… be aware of what you’re doing, Nasya.”

[SCP-9999 advances, places SCP-035 on her face. Mask seals instantly; ichor leaks from seams as Subject’s laugh distorts.]

SCP-035 (through SCP-9999, triumphant): “Yes… yes. Another shell. Another life to hollow. Your will is weak. Die and make room for me.”

[SCP-9999 convulses, clawing at throat, before collapsing. Vitals cease. SCP-035 vocalizes laughter through Subject’s mouth.]

Dr. Bright (grinning, hands in his coat): “Well, there she goes. What do you think, Santos — thirty seconds this time?”
Dr. Santos (sighing): “Forty-five.”

[At T+00:58, SCP-9999 revives, coughing. Subject removes SCP-035 without incident and replaces it on pedestal.]

Nasya (mocking): “That’s it? Please. You’re not even in the top ten. I’ve seen scarier masks at a Halloween store.”
SCP-035 (furious, ichor bubbling): “Impossible. You should be gone. Hollowed. My domain—”

Dr. Bright (snickering): “Write that down, Santos. Humiliated Keter-class. Gold.”
Dr. Santos (dry, jotting notes): “Already noted. Try not to sound so proud of yourself.”
Dr. Bright (to Nasya, amused): “Careful, kid. Keep dunking on them like that and you’re gonna give our anomalies a complex.”

[Black ichor surges across chamber floor, faint glyph-like sigils glowing briefly before fading. Containment alarms flicker, then stabilize. SCP-9999 dusts off hands, unaffected.]

Nasya: “Guess I’m out of your league. Better luck next victim.”

[END LOG.]

Addendum 9999-4 — SCP-682 Exposure Test

Personnel: Dr. ████ █████, Dr. ███████, MTF Epsilon-11 (“Nine-Tailed Fox”), MTF Psi-9 (“Abyss Gazers”), MTF Alpha-1 (“Red Right Hand”)

[Transcript — SCP-682 Exposure Test]

[BEGIN LOG.]

[SCP-9999 observed in containment suite, exhibiting anticipatory posture and elevated arousal indicators.]

Nasya: “I want to see SCP-682.”

Dr. Bright raised an eyebrow.
Dr. Bright: “The… hard-to-destroy lizard?”
Nasya: “Yep. That’s the one.”

Dr. Santos froze, disbelief and horror clear on his face.
Dr. Santos: “You don’t want to meet him.”

Nasya tilted her head, unfazed.
Nasya: “But why? ’Cause he hates everyone?”
Dr. Bright: “Exactly. Even if you’re immune to most things, we can’t predict what he’ll do.”

[Dr. Santos displayed acute stress response, nodding vigorously while maintaining rigid grip on table surface.]
Nasya: “Relax. I’ve got this.”

Her tone was calm, almost teasing, but her eyes betrayed a thrill: this was her chance to face something truly lethal. True death.

Dr. Bright waved dismissively.
Dr. Bright: “Fine, knock yourself out. Actually... wait, you already do that. Hah.”
Dr. Santos: “This isn’t a joke, Bright.”
Dr. Bright: “It’s always a joke. Otherwise, we’d cry ourselves to sleep every night.”

[Dr. Bright declined direct escort. Dr. Santos, citing liability and protocol, was subsequently redirected alongside Dr. Bright to auxiliary facilities (site canteen/medical wing) pending test outcome.]

Nasya: “Finally, my doctor-parent is staying behind!”

Dr. Santos scowled, and she smirked. Why is he glaring? she thought. He’s basically a parent anyway.

[Escorted by MTF personnel, SCP-9999 entered SCP-682’s containment chamber. SCP-682 observed in crouched posture, body coiled; eyes directed toward Subject.]

SCP-682: “Hmm… what’s this? A pest?”
Nasya: “Pest? That’s how you see people just ’cause they’re smaller than you?”

[SCP-682 brought its foot down with crushing force. Subject was immediately crushed beneath the impact. At T+00:08, vitals ceased. At T+00:59, Subject spontaneously revived, fully healed.]

Nasya: “That’s… rude.”

[SCP-682 paused, displaying altered respiration and olfactory activity consistent with curiosity.]
SCP-682: “You’re… different. I can smell it. The pest refuses to die.”
Nasya: “I’m dead.”
SCP-682: “Dead? All humans are dead to me eventually. But you… you mock death. Disgusting. Intriguing.”

Nasya smirked, waving lazily.
Nasya: “That’s right, big guy. Your stomp didn’t kill me. Surprised?”

[SCP-682 lowered its head, emitting a low growl resembling guttural laughter. Chamber walls vibrated under sustained vocalization.]
SCP-682: “Incredible… You should have died. Yet you survive. Fascinating. I will remember you, pest. Perhaps you are… useful. Perhaps not.”

Nasya: “Sure, sure. Not today. Big guy, I gotta go.”

[Subject exited chamber without incident. SCP-682 remained stationary. No breach risk detected.]

[Back in her containment suite, Dr. Bright and Dr. Santos were present.]

Nasya: “Well, here I am.”
Nasya: “That big guy’s in pain, actually.”
Dr. Bright: “Huh? Pain?”
Nasya: “I’m not talking about physical pain, dumbass.”
Dr. Bright: “Great. Now she’s doing therapy for the lizard. Write that down, Santos: ‘682, now with family counseling.’”
[Dr. Santos displayed brief laughter response, citing situational absurdity.]

[Subject reclined onto containment bed.]
Nasya: “My, my… looks like we’re a family now. Dr. Bright’s the mother, Dr. Santos the father, and I’m the delicate, pretty little child.”

[Both researchers departed following low-volume discussion regarding paperwork and safety protocols.] 

Nasya: “But whyyyyy…”

[Subject positioned at observation window, gaze fixed outward. Behavioral indicators suggest anticipation of further anomalous interaction.]

[END LOG.]

Addendum 9999-5 — SCP-106 Exposure Test

Personnel: Dr. Jack Bright, Dr. Carlo Santos, MTF Psi-9 (“Abyss Gazers”)

[Transcript — SCP-106 Exposure Test]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Dr. Bright: “Today’s session… the old man. You know him, right?”
Nasya: (flat, annoyed) “Yeah, that creepy dude. Ugh… the smell. Let’s get it over with.”
Dr. Santos: “You don’t have to interact. You can just observe.”
Nasya: (shrugs) “Nah, I wanna meet him. Might as well see if he’s got a way to… end it.”

Dr. Bright: (handing her a tablet) “Just in case he gets too close.”
Nasya: (smirks) “Don’t worry. Might lose an arm or head, but I’ll be fine.”

[SCP-9999 entered SCP-106’s containment chamber. Subject immediately displayed gag reflex attributed to severe olfactory conditions.]

[At T+00:00, SCP-106 manifested and seized SCP-9999, pulling Subject into pocket dimension.]

[Within pocket dimension, SCP-9999 impacted viscous surface material.]

Nasya crashes into the black, viscous floor. She coughs, gagging at the slimy, rancid stench surrounding her.
Nasya: (disgusted) “…The hell? Ugh, gross.”

[Surface convulsed; SCP-9999 forcibly ejected at T+00:06, reappearing in containment chamber and impacting floor, exhibiting minor discomfort. SCP-106 immediately re-engaged, resulting in repeated extractions and re-entries.]

Nasya: (wincing) “Ow—seriously? My butt’s not immortal.”

Dr. Bright: (grinning) “First anomaly to defeat her: gravity.”
Dr. Santos: (pinching the bridge of his nose) “Unbelievable…”

[By the fourth iteration, subject exhibited dizziness and signs of irritation.]

Nasya: (annoyed, dizzy, rubbing her lower back) “Ugh… old man… quit it already. My butt hurts, and I’m getting dizzy. You’re not winning this game.”

[SCP-106 froze momentarily. Subject’s continued resistance appeared to agitate entity; chamber interior exhibited blistering distortion and acoustic screech before SCP-106 retreated into wall. Manifestation event terminated.]

Nasya: (grinning) “…Did he just quit?”
Dr. Bright: “Oh, hell yes. The unkillable corpse just rage-quit. Nasya, you’re officially the first SCP rage-baiter.”
Dr. Santos: “This isn’t a joke. She endured multiple forced entries—”
Nasya: (laughing) “Entries that didn’t stick. Guess he got tired of losing.”
Dr. Bright: “Historic. ‘Nasya: The Rage-Baiter.’ I need that on a t-shirt.”
Nasya: (mock bowing) “All in a day’s work.”

[Session terminated. SCP-9999 escorted back to containment suite. Subject exhibited calm affect with noted increase in exploratory curiosity and appeared eager to continue testing perceived immunity.]

[END LOG.]

Addendum 9999-6 — SCP-999 Exposure Test

Personnel: Dr. Jack Bright, Dr. Carlo Santos, MTF Epsilon-11 (“Nine-Tailed Fox”)

[Transcript — SCP-999 Exposure Test]

[BEGIN LOG.]

Dr. Bright: “Today’s anomaly… the one that’s supposed to make everyone happy. You know it, right?”
Nasya: (flat, unimpressed) “Yeah, the gooey blob that laughs at everything. Let’s see if it works on me.”
Dr. Santos: “Remember, it’s harmless. You don’t need to worry about pain.”

[SCP-9999 escorted into chamber. SCP-999 approached rapidly, exhibiting characteristic excitability and high-pitched vocalizations.]

SCP-999: slurp slorp
Nasya: (staring, flat) “…Okay. Cute. But I don’t feel… anything.”

[Observation: SCP-999’s anomalous effect confirmed active. Subject displayed no measurable emotional response. Heart rate, respiration, and affect remained baseline.]

SCP-999: squeee! (pauses, posture drooping)
Nasya: (kneels slightly, softer tone) “Hey… hey, it’s not you. Don’t worry. This is on me, not on you.”

[SCP-999’s body pulsed weakly, subdued behavior noted. It maintained close proximity, but without its usual enthusiasm.]

[Subject patted SCP-999 gently before signaling for exit.]
Nasya: (quietly) “You’re still a good one… just can’t fix me.”

Dr. Bright: (squints at her, muttering) “Huh. So the blob that makes literally everyone giggle like idiots can’t even crack a smile out of you. Great. You broke my favorite slime puppy.”
Dr. Santos: (scribbling notes) “She doesn’t react at all… truly fascinating.”
Dr. Bright: (louder) “Fascinating? It’s depressing! That’s SCP-999, not a knock-knock joke. If it can’t get through, we’ve got a bigger problem than I thought.”

[Subject exits chamber. SCP-999 emits a low squeal, returning to idle state.]

[END LOG.]

Following completion of the initial cross-exposure trial series (Addenda 9999-1 through 9999-6), subject has demonstrated unprecedented survivability, anomalous resistance, and behavioral influence over multiple high-priority entities. Of particular note: SCP-173, SCP-096, SCP-035, SCP-682, SCP-106, and SCP-999 all exhibited responses outside expected containment parameters during interaction with SCP-9999.

In light of these findings, O5 Command has authorized direct engagement with the subject. The following documents record the first Council-initiated summoning.

O5 Summoning Log — SCP-9999

 Document Type: Supplementary Review Session
 Location: Site-19, Secure Video Link Conference Chamber
 Personnel: O5 Council, Dr. Jack Bright, Dr. Carlo Santos
 Subject: SCP-9999 (“Nasya”)

Summary:
Formal O5 summoning of SCP-9999 to discuss changes to operational status and potential deployment. Session conducted in the Site-19 Secure Video Link Conference Chamber.

[Transcript — Secure Video Link]

[BEGIN TRANSMISSION]

[SCP-9999 is seated within the Site-19 Secure Video Link Conference Chamber. Dr. Bright and Dr. Santos monitor from adjacent terminals. Subject appears composed; Dr. Santos exhibits visible tension.]

O5-2: "SCP-9999, your resilience and demonstrated immunity to a range of known anomalous effects are unprecedented. We propose expanding your operational role within Foundation containment and field operations."

Nasya (leaning back, smirking): "Go on. I'm listening."

O5-3: "The Council proposes assignment to active containment and reconnaissance of high-risk entities, and, pending evaluation, reclassification of SCP-9999 from Euclid to Thaumiel-class, to be employed in coordinated operations with MTF Alpha-9 (“Last Hope").

Dr. Bright (grinning): "This will be instructive. Observing Nasya in the field against anomalies that would incapacitate standard personnel—pure data gold. Even MTF Last Hope will look inexperienced beside her."

[Dr. Santos observed fidgeting with documentation; gaze alternates between SCP-9999 and Council feed.]

Nasya (crossing arms): "Alright. I agree, but on conditions. Internet access, full streaming privileges, Level 5 clearance, unrestricted site movement, and the ability to depart site when I choose."

O5-1 (pauses): "Those are considerable concessions. Unrestricted movement and unsupervised departures present clear containment risks."

Nasya (tilts head, evaluating): ...

O5-2: "We acknowledge your requests. Full unsupervised departure will be denied. We will authorize expanded digital access and streaming within monitored parameters. Any site departure will require escort by MTF personnel; escorts will be assigned per mission profile."

Nasya (smirk widening): "Excellent. Also, Dr. Santos and Dr. Bright accompany me on all missions."

Dr. Bright (chuckling): " Tempting, but no dice. I’d love the front row seat, but apparently I still have a day job. Who knew?"

Dr. Santos (quietly): "I—" [hesitates visibly] "Protocol constraints apply."

Nasya (sighing, waving a hand): "Fine. MTF escorts will do."

[Unofficial annotation: SCP-9999 later indicated intent to exploit escort procedures for personal amusement. Not included in official transcript.]

[Dr. Bright noted: potential opportunities for cross-testing and behavioral observation deemed significant.]

[Dr. Santos noted: expressed concern regarding SCP-9999’s safety and potential psychological harm.]

O5-3: "Terms are recorded. SCP-9999 will begin supervised training and preliminary deployment assignments immediately. Escort and monitoring protocols will be mandatory for all off-site movements. Digital privileges will be provisioned under Foundation oversight."

Nasya (standing, composed): "Perfect. Let's get to work."

[END TRANSMISSION]

Result: O5 Council authorizes the reclassification of SCP-9999 from Euclid to Thaumiel-class, permitting limited deployment in containment and reconnaissance operations under strict escort and monitoring protocols. Expanded, but monitored, digital access and selective Level 5 clearance approved. All off-site activity to be performed under MTF escort.

Operational Notes:
• Dr. Jack Bright assigned as tactical advisor for initial deployments; Dr. Carlo Santos retained as primary medical liaison for Subject.
• Psychological support and mandatory post-mission debriefs are required.
• All deviations from escort protocol will trigger immediate suspension of privileges and review by O5 Command.

Record Status: Finalized: forwarded to O5 archive. Authorized by O5-1, O5-2, O5-3.

When the Council link went dark, Dr. Bright leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. The grin hadn’t left his face once during the session.

“Look, I’ll say it straight,” he said, stretching like someone who’d just won a bet. “Giving Nasya a Thaumiel tag? Best gamble the Council’s made all year. Sure, she’ll bend the rules, maybe pull a few stunts with her escorts, but that’s half the fun. You want someone who can walk into a containment breach and come out without a scratch? That’s her. Worst case, she embarrasses an MTF or two. Best case? We’ve got a walking containment solution that doesn’t stay dead. I know a thing or two about that.” He tapped the amulet on his chest, a reminder of his own curse, and chuckled like he’d just told a joke only he thought was funny.

Across the table, Dr. Santos hadn’t moved much. His notes were clutched too tightly in his hands, the paper creased from his grip. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a weight Dr. Bright’s never did.

“While the Council’s decision carries strategic merit,” Dr. Santos said, each word measured, “I remain concerned about Nasya’s psychological stability and long-term wellbeing. Her resilience may protect her body, but it does not shield her from the cumulative mental strain of exposure to hostile anomalies and constant deployment.” His gaze lingered on Nasya, as if trying to see past the smirk she wore so easily. “I urge the Council to prioritize mental health evaluation alongside field utility. Failure to account for this may compromise both Nasya and surrounding personnel.”

Dr. Bright rolled his eyes, but Dr. Santos didn’t notice. The concern in his voice wasn’t procedural. It was personal.

[At the conclusion of the session, Nasya is escorted back to her containment chamber. Dr. Bright and Dr. Santos accompany her as they leave the conference chamber. En route, Dr. Bright suggests stopping by the Site-19 cafeteria; Dr. Santos declines, citing fatigue and lack of appetite. Dr. Bright, feigning offense, declares Dr. Santos “the worst possible wingman” and vows to find someone else willing to share questionable Jell-O with him.]

Chapter Text

The Council’s verdict still echoed in her mind: Nasya was now Thaumiel, drafted into MTF Alpha-9 (“Last Hope”) to be used against the very anomalies she seemed immune to. A living weapon, dressed up in clinical words.

Her stay at Site-19 was only temporary, but familiarity had begun to settle into its sterile halls. When the knock at her chamber door came, it wasn’t a guard or a doctor; it was something better.

SCP-999 bounced inside with a cheerful gurgle, his gelatinous body wobbling like a puppy eager to greet its owner.

Nasya crouched down to meet the happy slime. “Buddy, I’ll be leaving this site in a couple of days,” she murmured, scratching at the surface of his goo as if petting a dog. “Off to my permanent place at Site-17, where they keep other human freaks like me. You’d miss me, right, fellow-nines?”

The blob cooed in reply, pressing his warm body against her leg. She couldn’t feel his anomalous effect, but she didn’t care. The affection was real enough. And for once, it felt like friendship.

“Fellow-Nines,” she said with a grin, tapping the glass of the sweet jar on her desk, “how about we sneak out for a bit? Cafeteria trip. You and me. I hear they’ve got pudding with your name on it.”

SCP-999 quivered with delight, bouncing like a jiggling ball of sunshine. He gave an eager, squeaky gurgle that almost sounded like yes.

When Nasya stepped out with him trailing at her side, the escort detail stiffened. This was the first time anyone had seen SCP-999 casually accompanying her. Their radios crackled with quick check-ins, but clearance had already been given: observation trial. The guards said nothing, though their eyes lingered on the strange pair as they moved down the hall.

Human and slime, like mismatched conspirators on their way to mischief.

Nasya settled at a table, pushing a tray of sweets toward her bubbly companion. “Here, try this one,” she offered, holding out a square of dark chocolate.

SCP-999 snatched it up immediately— only to let out a shrill shrieeek, his orange mass wobbled dramatically like a child spitting out medicine.

Nasya erupted into laughter, clutching the edge of the table. “Oh, you little drama king! That’s real chocolate, Fellow-Nines. Not that sugar-loaded milk candy trash you keep devouring. Bittersweet, like life itself. That’s why it’s my favorite.”

The slime responded with a low, disgruntled gurgle, retreating toward a jelly-cup pudding on her tray. She shook her head, still grinning, and gave him a playful pat.

The cafeteria around them buzzed with the usual hum of Site-19 personnel. Nasya’s eyes wandered, idly, at first, until she froze.

Walking down the hallway just beyond the glass, Dr. Carlo Santos appeared with another doctor at his side. Dr. Zyn Kiryu, yes, that was her name. The one who had overseen several of the experiments during the past week. She remembered the woman clearly, though they’d hardly spoken.

What caught Nasya off guard wasn’t Dr. Kiryu herself, but Dr. Santos. Her usually stoic, stiff primary physician was laughing. Actually laughing, at something Dr. Kiryu said, the corners of his mouth breaking into a rare smile as the two of them walked together down the hall.

Nasya blinked. Her spoon clattered against the tray. She leaned back in her chair, smirk forming slow and sly. “Well, well...” she whispered.

SCP-999 burbled curiously, tilting his gooey head.

Nasya ruffled his jiggling surface, eyes still fixed on the hallway. “Looks like our good doctor has secrets too, Fellow-Nines.”

The blob made a questioning squeak. Nasya only smirked wider, savoring the thought. Mischief had just found its next target.

Later that day, Nasya wandered the sterile halls with purpose, the plan already forming in her head. She didn’t have to look long; there they were. Dr. Santos and Dr. Kiryu, walking side by side, their voices hushed but punctuated by the occasional laugh. His laugh.

She smirked. Perfect.

Without hesitation, Nasya closed the distance. Dr. Santos barely had time to register her before she reached up, tugging at his tie with deft fingers.

“Did you forget to look after yourself?” she teased, voice low, playful. “Look at you without me.” Her eyes flicked toward Dr. Kiryu as she straightened the knot, her grin widening.

Dr. Kiryu froze, the air around her suddenly taut. She shifted her glasses, the faintest pinch tightening her expression.

Nasya released the tie and took a step back, smile razor-sharp. “No worries, doctor,” she said sweetly, now directing her words at Dr. Kiryu. “He’s like a father to me, that’s why I’m worried.” She waved lazily, turning on her heel to leave, her laughter echoing faintly down the corridor.

Dr. Santos stood stunned, mouth opening and closing before any sound escaped. His face flushed scarlet as he glanced between Dr. Kiryu’s narrowed eyes and the hallway where Nasya had vanished.

“I… I… she— she’s just—” he stammered, fumbling with his notes as though they might shield him from the embarrassment.

Dr. Kiryu said nothing. Just adjusted her glasses once more, expression unreadable, and kept walking. Dr. Santos, flustered beyond words, scrambled to follow.

When the two doctors finally disappeared around the corner, the corridor loosened with an audible exhale.

One of the MTF guards tilted his head toward the others. “Did she just… pull the tie stunt?”

Another chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. Poor doc looked like he was gonna short-circuit.”

The third leaned on his rifle, amused. “Come on, you all know it’s like family with those two. She just wanted to rattle the new lady.”

That earned a round of quiet snickers, the kind that only grew once the hallway was empty again. “Still,” one added, “remind me never to get on her bad side. Girl’s chaos wrapped in skin.”

Their laughter faded back into professionalism as footsteps echoed from further down the hall.

“…tie stunt… right in front of Kiryu—”

“Well, well, what’s this about Santos, Kiryu, and a tie?”

The guards straightened at once as Dr. Jack Bright strolled over, hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. His amulet swayed as he leaned in, eyes glinting with interest.

“Go on,” he said, grinning. “Don’t clam up now. I know gossip when I hear it. Santos, Nasya, Kiryu… that’s a triangle I didn’t have on my bingo card.”

“Dr. Bright, sir, we’re not supposed to—”

Dr. Bright waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, confidentiality, I’ve heard it all. I know Kiryu’s been tagging along for testing this week, but…” He tilted his head, squinting at the guards. “What’s this about halls and ties? Santos isn’t exactly the type to… socialize.”

He leaned in closer, grin widening. “So— spill.”

One of the guards gave up, smothering a laugh. “Nasya fixed his tie. Right in front of Dr. Kiryu. Told her not to worry, because Dr. Santos was like a father to her.”

Dr. Bright blinked once. Then twice. Then doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly fell against the wall. “Oh my god. Perfect. Santos finally smiles, finally chats with a woman, and his ‘daughter’ steps in to cockblock him with a father card? That is brutal!”

He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Didn’t even know Santos and Kiryu were getting that close. Huh. Guess the man can laugh when I’m not around.”

The guards smirked behind their visors, saying nothing.

Dr. Bright straightened, still shaking his head with glee. “Ohhh, I am never letting him live this down. Thanks, boys. This is gold.”

He sauntered off, humming, already plotting the exact moment to drop the story on Dr. Santos’ head.

The following morning, Nasya sat cross-legged on her bunk, sipping from a tall cup of milk tea. The sweetness lingered in the air, ordinary and comforting. She looked up just as the door hissed open.

Dr. Santos stepped inside, shoulders stiff, glasses sliding slightly down his nose. He shut the door a bit harder than necessary before letting out a long breath.

“Diyos ko…” he muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Nasya tilted her cup toward him with a grin. “Morning, Doc.”

He gave her a flat look. “So. You enjoyed yourself yesterday?”

Her smirk widened. “Immensely.”

She leaned back, straw between her teeth, eyes glinting. “So… you’re hooking up with Dr. Kiryu now? Consider what I did yesterday a little push for your relationship. You’re welcome, doc.”

Dr. Santos pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please,” Nasya shot back, waving her cup lazily. “I saw you two flirting in the hallway.”

“Flirting?” His voice cracked an octave higher than usual. “We’ll never—”

Nasya cut him off with a laugh. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know too well when a man’s hitting on a girl, or when there’s something else. And what I saw yesterday,” she jabbed the straw in his direction, grin sharp, “wasn’t just casual. Those laughs? That’s not your usual grim reaper act, doc.”

Dr. Santos stiffened, jaw working as though the right words might magically appear. “Dr. Kiryu and I were—” He stopped, shook his head, and tried again. “We were simply discussing the results of your last test. That’s all.”

Nasya slurped loudly on her straw, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Discussing test results, and laughing like teenagers in the hall. Totally professional.”

His ears flushed red. “You’re imagining things.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, gaze fixed on him like a predator toying with its prey. “Am I? Because from where I was sitting, sharing sweets with Fellow-Nines, it looked a lot like you were enjoying yourself. Which is rare, so forgive me if I notice.”

Dr. Santos’s cheeks burned, betraying him faster than any denial could.

Nasya’s grin widened. “Relax, doc. This little fling of yours won’t last anyway. I’m being relocated to Site-17 soon. So…” She sipped from her cup, eyes gleaming with mischief. “…you’d better savor it while I’m still around to keep things interesting.”

The words seemed to land heavier than her teasing tone implied. Dr. Santos’s expression darkened, grimness flickering in his eyes.

Before the silence could deepen, the door hissed open.

Dr. Bright strolled in, amulet swinging, grin already plastered across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t lover boy and the chaos-bringer.”

Nasya smirked, firing back without missing a beat. “Please. You’re the chaos-bringer, Dr. Bright, and way worse than me, I bet.”

Dr. Bright clutched his chest theatrically. “Ouch. Brutal. And here I thought I was the picture of responsibility.”

Dr. Santos muttered under his breath, “God help me…”

Dr. Bright’s grin sharpened as he shifted his focus. “So, lover boy… tell me, how’s our dear Dr. Kiryu these days?” He waggled his brows. “Getting serious, are we?”

Dr. Santos’s face reddened instantly. “Bright, shut it.”

Nasya leaned back, sipping noisily from her cup and tilting her head, one hand cupped to her ear as though she were eavesdropping.

“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now,” Dr. Bright pressed, clearly enjoying himself. “If you don’t move fast enough, maybe I’ll try my luck with Kiryu myself.”

Dr. Santos’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening into a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Dr. Bright raised both hands in mock surrender. “Kidding! I’m kidding. Relax.”

Nasya burst into laughter at the sight of them, then deadpanned, “What the hell are my two doctor-parents doing here anyway? Why are you both in my chamber?

Dr. Santos was the first to answer, his voice steady despite the faint color still lingering in his cheeks. “Your transfer to Site-17 is being pushed back. You’ll be training with the MTFs first, preparation before you’re cleared for reconnaissance missions.”

Nasya groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “Ugh. So I’m stuck here longer?” She swept a hand at the bare chamber. “I already told you what I want: a proper room, loft bed, a gaming setup. This concrete shoebox ain’t it.”

Dr. Bright smirked. “Guess you’ll just have to spice it up with chaos. Good thing you’re a natural.”

Nasya arched a brow, lips curling into a sly smile. “Look who’s glad I get to stay here a little longer. His romance resumes while his poor little patient-daughter suffers in this dump, huh?”

Dr. Bright barked out a laugh, seizing the chance immediately. “Good for you, Santos. More time to flirt with Kiryu, huh?”

Dr. Santos’s ears turned scarlet almost instantly. His jaw tightened as he leveled a glare at Bright sharp enough to cut steel. “Bright, if you don’t shut your mouth, I swear—”

Dr. Bright only cackled, rocking back on his heels, clearly savoring every ounce of the doctor’s discomfort.”

Nasya’s smirk faltered, her mood pivoting as quickly as flipping a switch. She swept her gaze around the bare chamber again, lip curling. “When does my training start? The sooner I get through that, the sooner I can finally get a proper room. A nice one. For once.”

Her eyes cut to Dr. Santos, sharp and bratty all at once. “You’re welcome, by the way.” The words dripped with sarcasm, like a spoiled kid blaming her parent for not fixing things fast enough.

Dr. Bright lifted his hands in a mock-pacifying gesture. “Alright, alright, chaos-bringer. No need to scorch the walls. We’ll—” he tipped his head toward Dr. Santos, grinning, “do what we can. Appeal to the Site Director, pull a few strings, see if we can make your shoebox here a little less… boxy.”

Nasya’s smirk widened. “Hmp, and maybe add a tablet to the mix. It’s sooo boring here. At least get me some entertainment and internet access… although you guys are going to snoop on my history, right? You’re gonna see who I’ll send my nudes to.” She said it deadpan, like a dare wrapped in a joke.

Dr. Santos immediately went three shades red. He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat the way someone tries to recover dignity. “Nasya—” he began, voice tight, “that’s not appropriate. Digital privileges will be granted under strict monitoring and only within Foundation policy. There will be logs. We are not—” he broke off, utterly flustered, “going to... look at personal files unless protocol requires it. Please don’t give us reasons to check.”

Dr. Bright’s grin split his face. “Oh-ho, ‘strict monitoring,’” he purred, leaning forward. “Translation: I get to be the fun bouncer. Don’t worry, Santos, I’ll personally vet any suspicious… submissions.” He wagged a finger at Nasya. “And if you’re going to embarrass yourself, do me the courtesy of making it entertaining.”

Dr. Santos shot Dr. Bright a look sharp enough to peel paint. “Bright—”

Dr. Bright put his hands up, still smiling. “Kidding! Kidding. Mostly.” He winked at Nasya, then added, mock-serious: “We’ll petition for limited access. Monitored, logged, and boring enough to keep you out of trouble.”

Nasya snorted, amused. The corner of Dr. Santos’s mouth twitched despite himself; the threat in his glare had softened into something like exasperated affection.

After the doctors’ endless string-pulling and the Site Director’s eventual resignation to chaos, Nasya’s chamber transformed. No longer a sterile shoebox, the walls now glowed in shades of pink and teal. A proper bed sat against the corner, soft and high like a loft she’d demanded. A mini-fridge purred with sweets inside, stock refilled with suspicious efficiency. And the crown jewel: a tablet.

The Foundation’s generosity came with teeth. Every keystroke, every click, every game of solitaire tracked and analyzed. Though her access wasn’t technically restricted, any attempt to slip into old haunts of questionable content fizzled before the page could load. [Note: Foundation monitoring ensures Subject’s browsing remains compliant with Site-19 security protocols.] Still, the device gave her enough: puzzle apps, mobile games, and endless distractions to stave off the “dying of tiredness” she claimed during MTF drills.

MTF training hit her like a freight train: three months of bruising regimens, endurance circuits, containment simulations, and weapons drills that left even her regeneration groaning. She complained loudly and often, but adapted like she always did. Her saving graces were simple: the tablet’s games, SCP-999’s cheerful companionship, and the occasional mischief that lit up her sterile days.

[Note: SCP-999 not harmed during Subject’s pranks. Foundation observers confirmed interactions remained within safety parameters.]

Her “social calls” to other anomalies became another habit. Nasya would stroll right into SCP-096’s cell, flopping down on the floor to rant about drills as if the silent creature were her personal therapist. She’d barge into SCP-682’s chamber without hesitation, pelting the reptile with absurd survival questions and shamelessly calling him her “mentor.” With SCP-035, she bickered like siblings locked in an endless spat. The mask gave as much venom as she threw, yet she always walked away lighter.

[Personnel have described her as “an annoying roommate who won’t leave.” No corrective action taken.]

Others, she ignored entirely. SCP-106 was written off as “just dizzying and butt-bruising.” SCP-173 “smelled like shit and didn’t even notice her.”

Before training began in earnest, she laid down one condition: secrecy. Only a handful of MTF members knew her real status: Thaumiel, immortal, immune. She made them promise not to tell. “I want to surprise the others when I die and pop back up again,” she’d said with a wicked chuckle. Her squadmates agreed, grinning at the thought of their comrades’ future shock.

For three months, she was treated as just another rookie recruit. Bruised, exhausted, shouted at. Human. Her doctor-parents still checked in, but less often now, relieved to be spared her constant chaos. For once, they had other anomalies to worry about instead of their mischievous daughter-patient.

And then came the clearance.

Three months down. Deployment ready. The mission file landed in her hands. SCP-3199. “Humans, Refuted.”

She flexed her fingers, heart thrumming, and told herself: this is it. No more sterile walls, no more drills, no more pretending. Out there, in the field, she would finally show them what it meant to be unkillable.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d get to see the look on their faces when she “died” the first time.

Nasya sat cross-legged on her bed, teal blanket pooling around her knees, the glow of her Foundation-issued tablet lighting her face. She scrolled through the SCP-3199 files, unrestricted now; the [REDACTED] lines that used to gnaw at her curiosity unfolded into full paragraphs of horror.

She leaned her cheek against her fist, eyes narrowed as she studied the grainy containment photos: hairless, bird-ape things slick with albumen sheen. The text read clinical, detached, but the images told another story: desperation, hunger, violence, an unending cycle.

“Humans, refuted…” she muttered under her breath, testing the words. Her thumb hovered as she flicked past addenda and experiment logs. Reproduction rates, impossible resilience, eggs pulled screaming through their own throats. She grimaced, but didn’t look away.

The Foundation wanted her to recon this?

She smirked faintly. Figures. Who else are they going to send to babysit an extinction-class chicken-chimp apocalypse?

She tapped to bookmark the chemical analysis of the eggshells. Cold exposure: total destruction. Heat: breach risk. Water: stasis. She murmured each detail, committing it to memory, her mind already running scenarios.

[Internal Note: Subject demonstrates active study and tactical preparation, treating anomaly files less as curiosities and more as live training manuals.]

Nasya flexed her fingers, heart thrumming. This wasn’t reading for curiosity anymore; it was preparation.

Nasya let the tablet glow against her palms, the clinical jargon and gruesome photos scrolling past like a checklist. To everyone watching: her doctors, the MTFs, the cameras feeding back to Site command, she was compliant, useful, even eager. She learned callouts, memorized protocols, rehearsed casualty procedures with a smile. She leaned into the role the Foundation wanted her to be: asset, asset, asset.

But obedience was camouflage. Behind the jokes, the pranks, the “chaos-bringer” act, something colder steered her choices. Each file she bookmarked was a map. Each trial she volunteered for, a probe. The Foundation thought it was bending her to its will; she was bending it to hers. If she had to play their soldier to get closer to the thing that would finally stop her, then she would play soldier.

She pictured that night on Mt. Ugo: the gunmetal smell, the two sharp cracks, the deliberate quiet, and the plan that had once felt absolute. The meteor had laughed at her; the world had not halted. Now she had resources, permissions, a literal army at her back. Among the containment lists and redactions lay a problem set and, she hoped, a solution: an anomaly that would not shrug off her attempts at death, one that would be final.

So she swallowed the scripts and the pep talks, logged the minutiae, trained until muscles ached, all while scheming. Compliance was a means, not a truce. She had a ledger in her head: tests, targets, weak points. She would keep smiling for as long as it took to finish what she had started.

Chapter Text

SCP-9999 “Nasya”

Designation: SCP-9999, Project Null
Class: Initially Euclid → now Thaumiel
Containment Site: Site-19 Secure Containment Chamber

Origin & Recovery

• Recovered at Mt. Ugo meteorite impact (08/08/20██).
• Self-identified as Nasya, ~40 years old (appears 20s).
• Intake transcript with Dr. Carlo Santos (primary caretaker). She described attempting suicide with dual pistols at impact site but “woke up alive” at Site-██.
• Medical imaging: instantaneous self-reconstruction, no permanent damage.

Physical Description

Subject is a Filipina woman exhibiting features often associated with Chinese heritage. She stands approximately 1.55 meters (155 cm) tall, weighs around 55 kg, and has a slim build and fair skin. Hair is naturally orange; eyes are gray, occasionally described as faintly luminous under low light (unconfirmed anomalous correlation). She favors dark, casual attire, such as black band shirts, ripped jeans, and other goth-inspired elements, contrasted by soft, minimalist makeup (coral lips, light Douyin-style tones). Her demeanor alternates between playful defiance and quiet detachment, often accompanied by a faint, knowing smile.

Core Anomaly

• Absolute Regeneration: Heals any trauma (physical, anomalous, corrosive, dismemberment) within minutes.
• Progressive Immunity: Becomes functionally immune to anomalies she has survived.
• Resistant to Foundation measures: Anesthesia, amnestics, and affective anomalies ineffective.
• Psych Profile:
  • History of bipolar disorder, psychosis, and repeated suicide attempts.
  • Nihilistic, self-destructive, but occasionally empathetic.
  • Alternates between antagonism and cooperation depending on mood.
• Secondary Anomalous Influence: In some cases, anomalous entities change behavior around her (calm, hesitate, or fixate).

Key Field Encounters (Field Testing Logs — SCP-9999)

• SCP-173: Initially appears to kill her; she revives and SCP-173 ignores her afterward.
• SCP-096: She is attacked, claws received, heals completely; afterwards SCP-096 is calm and even hugs her.
• SCP-035: Subject briefly possessed by SCP-035; vitals ceased. Revived, removed mask without incident. Demonstrated immunity to possession; unscathed.
• SCP-682: Direct confrontation; 682’s lethal attacks fail to kill her, and 682 registers interest/fascination rather than immediate destruction.
• SCP-106: Repeated pocket-dimension captures fail to permanently harm her; 106 ultimately retreats.
• SCP-999: Usual euphoria effect failed completely. Nasya showed empathy, reassuring SCP-999 despite her immunity. O5-1 initiated private Council dialogue afterward.

Containment Expansion Request (Addendum Nasya-1 — Daily Observation Logs)

• Nasya demanded expanded living quarters: loft bed, gaming PC, kitchen, sweets, TV, streaming access, and “a homey feel.”
• Threatened subtle retaliation if denied.
• Produced architectural blueprint herself.
• Result: Some requests under review; partial accommodations granted.

O5 Council Negotiation (O5 Summoning Log — SCP-9999-1)

• Secure video session:
  • O5 Council proposed reclassification to Thaumiel, deploying Nasya in containment/recon alongside MTF Alpha-9 (“Last Hope”).
  • Nasya agreed but demanded privileges: internet, streaming, Level 5 clearance, free roaming, ability to leave with escort.
  • O5 compromised: escort mandatory, free access limited.
  • Nasya mischievously accepted, already planning to exploit loopholes.
• Result: SCP-9999 formally recognized as Thaumiel, authorized for deployment in high-risk operations.

Current Standing

• Status: Immortal anomaly, resistant to nearly all SCP effects, increasingly indispensable to containment.
• Risks:
  • Suicidal ideation → deliberately exposes herself to lethal anomalies.
  • Psychological instability → unpredictable behavior and veiled threats.
  • Growing influence over other anomalies → potential destabilization.
• Assets:
  • Unique immunity makes her the only viable candidate for testing lethal SCPs.
  • Ability to calm or redirect anomalies (096, 682, possibly others).
  • Tactical deployment potential (Thaumiel).

The staging bay hummed with the low growl of generators and the nervous shuffling of boots. Rows of armored personnel lined the benches, strapping gear across their vests, whispering sharp little rumors under their breath.

Nasya sat among them, tugging at the straps of her vest like it was an old jacket. She wore the grin of someone who had already decided this was a game.

“Bit heavy, don’t you think?” she said, shaking the rifle slung across her chest. “So, how much are we betting I’ll embarrass myself before the monster even shows up?”

A couple rookies chuckled nervously. Few of them avoided her eyes. The ones who knew. The ones she’d sworn to secrecy back in the labs, promising the reveal would be worth it. The rest? Clueless. Nervous. Easy prey for shock.

Behind her, the squad sergeant cleared his throat, voice carrying over the mutters.
“Eyes front. Mission briefing: Site-██, decommissioned outpost. SCP-3199 breach confirmed. Objective: recon, egg sweep, cleanup. Expect hostile juveniles. You see one, you put it down. Tag and bag the eggs, let Command handle the rest. Stay tight, no freelancing.”

The room stiffened. Everyone had heard the rumors. Humanoid, screaming, eggs full of more of itself: “Humans, Refuted.” Containment nightmare.

Nasya leaned back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, calm in a room full of taut nerves. Her mind wasn’t on the words. She was studying exits, counting escape routes, already rehearsing her favorite experiment: dying.

From the back of the room, Dr. Bright drifted closer, hands in his pockets, grin flashing like a knife. He leaned in just close enough for only her to hear.

“Alright, Nasya,” he whispered, voice amused. “This one’s… a real challenge. You ready to test your immunity for real?”

Nasya tilted her head, lips curling. “I’m dead, doc. What’s a little danger?”

Bright chuckled, straightened, and sauntered off toward the door.

“Excellent attitude. You’re gonna make this so much fun.”

He left the bay, already fishing a comm headset from his pocket. Surveillance awaited. The field wasn’t his place today; that honor belonged to someone else.

Across the room, Dr. Clef stood apart, silent, unreadable. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, just watched her with the kind of gaze that felt like a weapon. When the squad began boarding, he left first, stepping out into the night. His boots crunched gravel as he climbed into a separate vehicle in the convoy, sliding on his comms headset.

A voice crackled over comms, sharp and low.
Dr. Clef.

“Bright. This is your idea of field deployment? A Council toy in my squad?”

Dr. Bright’s grin widened as he clipped the headset in.
“Oh, Clef, don’t be like that. She’s not a toy. She’s… entertainment.”

A pause on the line. Dr. Clef’s sigh came through like static.
“If she’s entertainment, she’s bait. And you’re treating live containment like a circus act. You think the O5s will protect you if this goes sideways?”

Dr. Bright’s tone was sing-song, annoyingly cheerful.
“Sideways is half the fun. Just keep your eyes open. You’ll see why I recommended her.”

The bay doors rattled open, spilling night air into the room. The forest outside loomed in dark folds, the treeline black against the stars.

“Mount up,” the sergeant barked.

Boots thundered on the metal ramp as the squad filed into the transport. Armor plates clanked, weapons checked again and again in nervous hands. Nasya strolled in last, chewing on a stick of gum she’d lifted from the break room, dropping into her seat like she was boarding a bus.

The vehicle roared to life, jostling them as it tore into the treeline.

Inside, silence pressed close. The rookies stole glances at her, quick and sharp, like they were afraid she might catch them staring. Nasya stretched her legs out, eyes roaming lazily over the squad, studying their gear, their twitching knees, their hands flexing over safeties. She smirked, then muttered under her breath just loud enough for the nearest soldier to hear:

“Another day, another dangerous monster. Yawn.”

The man flinched. Looked away.

In her head, the monologue was colder. Perfect. Maybe this one will finally finish it.

Reconnaissance Mission Log — SCP-9999
Document Type: Mission Deployment Record

Foreword: Following the success of SCP-9999’s early containment trials, MTF training, and O5 Council negotiations, subject was granted her prior requests and formally reclassified as Thaumiel-class. Subsequent deployment in high-risk anomaly sites commenced under MTF Alpha-9 (“Last Hope”) supervision.

Addendum 9999-1 — Mission Log: SCP-3199 First Deployment
Personnel: SCP-9999 (“Nasya”), MTF Alpha-9 (“Last Hope”), Dr. Jack Bright (remote), Dr. Alto Clef (field)
Location: [REDACTED] Wild Containment Zone
Date: ██/██/20██ (21:13)

[21:13] [Convoy halts at drop point; rear hatches open. Environment: dense forest, heavy mist, low visibility.]
Sgt: “Stay alert! Protocol only. No heroics.”
[21:14] [Personnel deploy; standard sweep formation initiated. Perimeter assessment: fencing compromised, floodlights destroyed, extensive clawing damage to outpost structures. Human remains observed; one rookie vomits.]
Rookie-1: “Egg…”
Sgt: “Tag it. Keep moving.”
[21:16] [SCP-3199 ovum observed in shallow water; suspended, pulsing. SCP-9999 (Subject) crouches to inspect; remark audible: “Pretty.”]

[21:17] [Acoustic event: high-intensity distress vocalization (SCP-3199). Treeline disturbance at ~50 m.]
Op-2: “Movement in the treeline, contact!”
[21:17] [SCP-3199-α (adolescent instance) breaches treeline. Instance estimate: 2.7–3.0 m. Rapid locomotion; hyperflexion of cervical region observed.]
[21:17] [Engagement: SCP-3199-α closes on Alpha-9 formation. Rounds fired; multiple personnel report impaired aim due to panic. SCP-3199-α impacts SCP-9999 directly.]
Rookie-2: “Man down! She’s—”
Sgt: “Fall back! Fall back!”

[21:17] [SCP-9999 sustained catastrophic thoracic and abdominal trauma (visual confirmation). Massive hemorrhage observed; subject rendered unresponsive. MTF units execute retreat maneuver.]
Dr. Clef (field comms): “…Any second now.”
Dr. Bright (remote comms): “Patience, Clef. Showtime.”

[21:19] [ANOMALOUS PHENOMENON — SCP-9999]
[21:19] [Regenerative activity initiated. Observed sequence: hemorrhagic flow reduction; connective tissue approximation; audible ossification/crack as ribs realign; pulmonary re-expansion; visceral tissue reformation under dermal closure. Total observable recovery time: ~00:02:15.]
Rookie-3: “…She was dead. I saw her die.” [voice breaks]

[21:19] [Squad-wide silence observed. One operative whispered, voice hollow: “She’s… she’s not human.”]
[21:20] [SCP-3199-α halts aggression. Behavior shift: fixation on SCP-9999; retreating posture; maintenance of visual lock. Instance exhibits hesitation and decreased hostile output.]

[21:21] [MTF containment exploited fixation event. Deployment: nets, stun charges, restraint poles. SCP-3199-α displays minimal resistance while fixation persists. Restraints secured; chemical sedatives administered per protocol.]
Sgt: “Containment achieved.”
[21:22] [SCP-9999 rises; demeanor casual. Audible quote from Subject: “See? All fine. You guys okay?”]

[21:25] [Extraction preparation initiated. SCP-3199-α secured for transport to containment vehicle. Ovum retrieval team assigned to submerged containment protocol (water immersion pending).]

[21:26] [End log segment]

Notes:
• Dr. Jack Bright monitored operation remotely via surveillance feed and maintained comms with field command throughout. Dr. Alto Clef maintained field command of Alpha-9.
• Majority of Alpha-9 personnel were not briefed on SCP-9999’s regenerative properties prior to deployment; several personnel expressed acute psychological distress following observed events. A controlled disclosure review is recommended.
• SCP-3199-α fixation on SCP-9999 represents anomalous behavioral deviation from previously recorded aggression patterns; further behavioral analysis required.
• Egg retrieval procedures to follow established Site-114/LK mitigation protocols (water immersion, liquid nitrogen/crushing contingencies to be evaluated upon transport).

The containment trucks rumbled away with their prize. The squad sat in weary silence, helmets off, eyes down. No one looked at her directly.

Nasya sat with a smug half-smile, but when she glanced at their averted eyes, the words burned. Monster. Not human.

In a separate transport, Dr. Clef leaned back, listening to Dr. Bright’s glee over the comms.

Dr. Bright’s voice crackled through the comms, thick with amusement.
“I told you, didn’t I? Fascinating. She didn’t just survive, she turned it. She scared the bloody thing.”

On the other end, Dr. Clef’s reply came low and grudging.
“Interesting. But don’t mistake curiosity for control. That girl’s no soldier. She’s… something else.”

Dr. Bright’s laugh carried a smirk you could hear even without seeing him.
“And that’s exactly why the Council wants her.”

The line crackled into silence, the forest swallowing the convoy’s retreat.

Nasya sat alone, eyes burning into the dark, already hungering for the next trial.

Not enough. Too easy. If that’s all they’ve got… I’ll never die.

The command center was quieter than usual. No buzz of operators, no flashing alerts on the wall screens, just the muted hum of machinery and the cluster of Alpha-9, gathered around a long table.

Nasya leaned back in her chair, boots crossed on the rung, her arms folded with a grin plastered across her face. “Alright,” she said, tone too casual, “I guess I owe you guys an apology. Didn’t mean to give everyone a heart attack out there.”

Her grin widened, the glint of mischief still there. “Okay, maybe just a little.”

A few of the MTF exchanged uneasy glances. One rookie shifted in his chair, muttering, “You were dead.” His voice cracked on the word.

Another, one of the veterans who had known, just chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. Across the table, one of the younger operatives stared at her like she was a walking miracle, awe plain on his face.

The room felt split: half wary, half impressed, and none quite sure what to say.

Dr. Santos sat slouched with his arms crossed, expression hovering somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. “Absurd,” he muttered. “Absolutely absurd.”

That was when the door opened.

Dr. Clef stepped inside, his presence shifting the room before he even spoke. He didn’t look at anyone else; his gaze went straight to her.

Dr. Bright’s grin cut through the silence like a knife. “Ah, just in time. Nasya, meet Dr. Alto Clef.”

Nasya glanced up at Dr. Clef, tilted her head, and gave a shrug. “Eh. Okay.” She leaned back in her chair again, unimpressed, already done with the introduction.

Dr. Bright let out a short laugh, clearly entertained by her dismissal. Dr. Clef, for his part, only narrowed his eyes slightly, studying her with a look that could peel layers off steel.

The door hissed open again, and the sergeant entered. His voice carried the weight of authority that cut the tension clean.

“Attention.”

Alpha-9 went still. Eyes turned toward him, some still restless after the last mission, some fixed on the girl lounging in her chair at the back.

The sergeant tapped a file against the table, then began.
“Designation: SCP-9999. Also known as Nasya. Formerly classified Euclid, now reclassified to Thaumiel per O5 directive. Origin: civilian female, Philippines. Subject expired during meteor impact event 08/08/20██. Revived anomalously. Since that event, subject displays total regenerative capability; to date, no termination attempt has succeeded.”

Murmurs spread through the squad. Nasya tilted her head and gave a little nod, like he wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know.

“Subject has undergone controlled cross-testing with the following anomalies,” the sergeant continued, his tone clipped. “SCP-173. SCP-096. SCP-035. SCP-682. SCP-106. All attempted terminations failed; subject recovered fully. Notably, SCP-999 has no effect on her emotional or physical state. Null response.”

The room went quiet, operatives absorbing the scope of the statement. A few of the MTFs who had seen her experiments before chuckled quietly under their breaths, while others stared, incredulous. 

“Due to these properties, the O5 Council has authorized SCP-9999’s deployment as a field asset under Mobile Task Force Alpha-9, codename ‘Last Hope.’ Yesterday’s SCP-3199 sweep was her first official operation. Effective immediately, a specialized squad will form around her integration: Team Nasya.”

The words landed heavy. Operatives traded glances, some skeptical, some impressed, some unable to hide their unease.

From the side of the room, Dr. Bright grinned like he’d just won a bet. “See? Thaumiel. Entertainment and utility. I told you she’d make waves.”

Dr. Clef leaned against the wall, arms folded, voice low. “Waves sink ships if you don’t control them. Don’t mistake an anomaly for a soldier, Bright.”

Dr. Bright’s smirk widened. “Control? Please. You don’t control something like her. You point her at a problem and watch the fireworks.”

Dr. Clef’s gaze never left Nasya, eyes sharp, unblinking. “Fireworks burn both ways.”

Nasya caught the weight of his stare, shrugged again, and smirked faintly. “Eh. I’ve been called worse.”

The sergeant snapped his file shut, finality in the motion. “Next recon briefing in twelve hours. Dismissed.”

Nasya leaned forward slightly, hands resting on her knees. Her grin was mischievous but not unkind. “Come on, you’ll get used to it,” she said, voice teasing but genuine. “I know it was… a bit of a shock. But hey, we all survived, didn’t we?” A few rookies glanced at each other nervously, still pale from the last mission. Some nodded hesitantly. One of the veterans, who had seen her in the labs before, smirked and muttered under his breath, “Yeah… you’ll get used to it.”

Nasya pushed herself up from the bench and stretched lazily, tossing a wink at a trembling rookie before heading down the corridor. Her boots clacked against the polished floors as she made her way to SCP-999’s chamber.

The little orange blob bounced toward her as soon as the door slid open, gurgling in excitement. “Hey, buddy,” she said, crouching to scoop SCP-999 into her arms. “Time to go see the cafeteria; don’t tell anyone I bribed you with extra syrup.”

SCP-999 squirmed happily, gurgling and flopping, its slime glistening in the dim light of the containment hall.

With SCP-999 safely nestled, she strolled toward the elevator, the familiar hum of the foundation corridors a comforting backdrop.

Later, Nasya stepped carefully into SCP-682’s containment chamber, boots clacking against the reinforced floor as she approached the massive, scaly figure, milk tea in hand. 

“You wouldn’t believe it, Mentor,” she said, taking a sip and letting the liquid cool on her tongue. “Today’s mission? Absolute chaos. I let the rookies think I was dead, blood and all. Their faces when I just… got back up? Priceless. Pure terror, and a little awe too. Don’t worry, I left them alive.”

SCP-682 let out a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the containment glass, tail thrashing. “Typical display of recklessness,” it said, voice laced with that familiar, begrudging amusement. “But I suppose I expected nothing less.”

Nasya chuckled, taking a sip of her milk tea. “Yeah, you taught me well, Mentor. Chaos is fun.”

She tilted her head, curiosity creeping in. “Hey… what’s your actual name? You know, the one before ‘SCP-682’?”

The creature’s amber eyes locked onto hers, a flicker of something ancient and almost solemn in its gaze. “Atanti,” it said finally, voice echoing in the chamber like stone grinding against stone.

Nasya mused aloud, letting the word roll off her tongue. “Atanti… huh. Sounds ancient. Fits you.”

SCP-682 gave a low, almost approving hum. “And yet still unbroken.”
Nasya’s eyes flicked to the floor, lips curling in a half-smile as she muttered, “Same.”

She straightened, a small grin tugging at her lips, and gave a casual wave toward him. “Bye, Atanti. I’ll visit you again sometime.”

After leaving SCP-096’s chamber, enjoying the quiet company of the silent creature who never interrupted her rants, Nasya returned to her own chamber. She pushed the door open and froze for a moment. There, standing amid the familiar sterile lights and her scattered belongings, were her two doctor-parents: Dr. Santos and Dr. Bright.

“What… what are you two doing here?” she asked, suspicion flickering across her face.

Dr. Bright grinned, hands tucked into his pockets. “Got some good news, kiddo. Big changes ahead.”

Dr. Santos, more reserved, simply nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Nasya’s eyes widened. “Good news?”

“You’re finally being transported to Site-17,” Dr. Bright said. “The containment room of your dreams.”

A pang of nostalgia, or maybe something sharper, hit her chest. She realized how much she’d already bonded with certain SCPs. A mischievous thought formed instantly: What if I smuggle SCP-999 along?

Dr. Santos noticed the faraway look and sighed. “Nasya… you’re not planning anything mischievous again, are you?”

Dr. Bright chuckled behind him, the sound full of amusement. “If she is, I want front-row seats.”

Nasya blinked, shaking herself free of the thought. “No… well… maybe just a little.” She smirked.

Dr. Santos cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “Your transport is scheduled right after the second recon mission. While you’re out in the field, your room at Site-17 is already being set up.”

Nasya’s eyes widened. “Already? That fast?”

Dr. Bright leaned casually against the wall, hands in his pockets, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. “Of course. We didn’t just stop at a room. Everything you requested: a loft bed with a gaming PC below so you can dominate in comfort, a small kitchen for your… culinary experiments, a proper restroom with a full shower and bathtub, a closet stuffed with every ridiculous outfit you’ve been whining about, and a fridge fully stocked with groceries, especially your precious dark chocolate. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Nasya blinked, then grinned so wide it threatened to split her face. “Seriously? You’re spoiling me.”

Dr. Bright shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Wouldn’t be the first time. You earned it, kid.”

Nasya’s eyes lit up, genuine happiness breaking across her face. Without thinking, she ran forward and hugged both of them tightly.

“You’re coming with me, right, Dr. Santos? You and I are a package in this Foundation; without you, there’s no me,” she said, voice slightly urgent. She turned to Dr. Bright, a teasing grin curling her lips. “And you too, silly!”

Dr. Bright laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately, while Dr. Santos just shook his head, exhaling deeply, half exasperated, half fond.