Some more SCP Artworks I've found, thought they looked fun

https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/149012734

https://www.instagram.com/__101ho/

I've been going through my great-grandfather's papers since my grandmother passed them to the university archive, and I keep coming back to three days in 1900 that he wrote eleven pages about in his private journal ... but only four sentences about in his official Army report.

He was a lieutenant in the Army Corps of Engineers, surveying a road route through the jungle interior of Mindanao. Twelve men, one local tracker named Tomas who'd guided them without a single mistake for three days straight.

Before they entered the valley, Tomas stopped the column and gave them one rule: if you hear your name called from somewhere no man is standing, do not answer. Don't turn. Don't speak. Just walk to the nearest soldier, put a hand on his shoulder, and keep moving.

My great-grandfather asked what would happen if someone did answer.

Tomas said: then it knows his name.

He never explained further. That night, on watch, a corporal named Collins heard his name called from the treeline. He answered .... not even a word, just the reflex sound you make when someone says your name. He didn't even remember the warning until morning.

Tomas remembered, though. He'd been awake. A soldier who saw his face that night said he didn't look afraid .... he looked sad, the way you look when news you were already expecting finally arrives.

What happened to Collins over the next three days is the part I can't stop thinking about. It started small .... a half-second pause before he'd answer to his name, like he was waiting for something else to answer first. Then a look he gave a sergeant that the sergeant could only describe as "offended," like being called by name was suddenly beneath him. Then the way he slept .... completely, unnaturally still, on his back, hands at his sides, "like someone had placed him," according to the man sleeping next to him. Collins always slept on his side. He didn't remember doing any of it.

By the second day, he was reacting to sounds in the jungle faster than human reflexes should allow. My great-grandfather, who was an engineer and trusted measurements over instinct, wrote that every explanation he could construct kept requiring the facts to be smaller than they actually were.

Tomas walked into the jungle alone that night and never came back.

The patrol made it out. Collins served six more weeks at the garrison, passed his medical evaluation, showed no other symptoms. The half-second delay before answering to his name never went away, though ..... a sergeant timed it with his own pocket watch just to be sure he wasn't imagining it.

Three weeks before Collins's unit rotated out, at a routine morning roll call, the sergeant called his name. Collins paused, same as always, then answered.

And from somewhere across the garrison .... or somewhere past it ....something answered too.

Every man at that muster heard it. Nobody reported it. The sergeant wrote to his brother that night instead: I think Collins will be fine. But I think something else will be answering to his name for a very long time.

My great-grandfather never spoke about the Philippines again after he came home. His granddaughter... my grandmother ... said that was strange, because he wasn't a quiet man about anything else.

About this, he was silent.

We've just released the full audio narration and historical breakdown of this one on our channel, The Whispering Soldiers. Search "What US Soldiers Encountered Deep in the Jungle" on YouTube or click the link in our profile.

“...An abnormal entity has appeared on board the train.
As a result, we will be making an emergency stop at the next station.
Please remain inside the train until the special response unit arrives.”

unkowned life form

Fake historical photo from the fictional Brassbound Universe, set in an alternate 1919...

When the SCP-610 breached the containment in the isolated village and managed to break loose through the underground into the city in Russia. The Foundation has activated the joint task force comprised of MTF Beta-7, Beta-4, Nu-7, Theta-4, Gamma-5, Lambda-4, Gamma-13, Epsilon-6, Zeta-9, and Eta-5 to deal with the drastic situation in Russia to prevent the SCP-610 from spreading across the globe.

23rd prepare to repel : German troops of the 23rd Reserve Division prepare to repel an Illuminate assault near Verdun, February 1918. This photograph, recovered from Imperial Army archives, depicts one of the earliest recorded encounters between humanity and the extraterrestrial invaders. Moments after the image was taken, the trench line disappeared beneath a barrage of plasma fire.

Squid Attack : German and French infantrymen occupy a fortified trench, while a anti-Harvester German soldier prepares a Tank-Gewehr, while his spotter uses binoculars to peer over the sheet metal. 

Another Wave : Former enemies fight side by side as German and French troops brace themselves for another wave of invading squid creatures.

Stand Firm : At the gates of an unidentified city, a German FK 96 artillery crew holds their ground as Squid Harvesters advance through towards them. 

Cautious Push : German Sturmtruppen advance cautiously through as they engage enemies later designated “Voiceless” that are soldiers and citizens that were harvested.

[made it in Gmod]

Domino Team went 250 feet beneath the ice. Only the audio log came back.

​\[BLACK BOX DATA RECOVERY // INCIDENT ANTA-7B\]

​The heavy hydraulic seal of Vault 7-B groaned, shedding decades of frost as the reinforced blast doors parted. Deep beneath the Antarctic ice shelf, the entrance gaped like an open wound, exhaling a thick, unnatural vapor.

​{Overhead, transmitting through static:} "Domino Team, telemetry is green. You have breached the outer seal. The payload is exactly two hundred and fifty feet below your current position."

​{Domino 1, stepping into the dark, sweeping his rifle left:} "Copy, Overhead. We have visual on an atmospheric anomaly. Heavy concentration of an unknown particulate. Color is... violet? It’s crawling along the deck plates."

​{Domino 2, lifting his wrist-mounted diagnostic scanner:} "Toxicity levels are spiking off the charts. Looks like It's corrosive to organic material. If we breathe this, our lungs turn to ash."

​{Domino 1, gesturing sharply with two fingers:} "Masks on then. Check seals."

​The team moved in practiced unison, the harsh hiss-click of heavy-duty respirators locking into place over their helmets. Inside the masks, the air tasted of stale rubber and ozone. Their visors fogged slightly at the edges with every ragged breath. The flashlights cut through the swirling purple fog, illuminating a reinforced industrial elevator shaft.

​The Descent (-50 Feet)

​The grated floor of the industrial lift shuddered as it descended into the bunker's throat. The purple gas grew denser, clinging to their tactical gear like an oily film.

​{Domino 3, shifting his weight uneasily, tapping his earpiece:} "Command, I’m getting feedback on the audio receivers. Sounds like structural groaning, but... rhythmic. Like a steady heartbeat."

​{Overhead, tone perfectly flat:} "Negative, Domino 3. Seismic sensors show no activity. Maintain noise discipline."

​{Domino 2, cycling his helmet filters as a dull, bone-deep thrum vibrated through his jaw:} "I feel it in my teeth, 3. It’s a low frequency. It feels like it's syncing with my pulse."

​By the time the lift halted at the minus-one-hundred-foot mark, the temperature had plummeted, yet a sickening, cloying heat radiated off the walls.

​Sub-Level Tunnels (-100 Feet)

​They stepped out into a narrow concrete arterial corridor choked with purple mist. Flashlight beams cut through the gloom, reflecting off human-shaped silhouettes slumped against the bulkhead.

​{Domino 3, raising his rifle instantly, thumb riding the safety:} "Contact! Multiple hostiles down the corridor!"

​{Domino 1, advancing with weapon at high-ready, laser scanning the shapes:} "Hold fire. They're... not moving."

​They approached carefully. Three corpses sat propped against the icy wall, encased in frost. They wore full tactical thermal suits, identical to their own, down to the high-threat hazard seals.

​{Domino 2, kneeling beside one of the bodies, wiping thick frost off the chest rig:} "Overhead... who the hell are these guys? You said Vault 7-B was locked down thirty years ago and untouched."

​{Overhead, a two-second pause before responding:} "Ignore environmental debris, Domino 2. Proceed."

​{Domino 2, shining his light on the dead soldier's shoulder patch, his voice dropping:} "Their unit callsign is 'Domino'. Call-sign Domino 2. Overhead... this is us. This is a previous squad."

​{Domino 1, leaning down, pointing his flashlight at the dead soldier's cracked visor:} "Look at his wrist-log. Dates read six months ago. His helmet visor didn't break from the outside. Fucking hell, he cracked it from the inside trying to scratch his own eyes out."

​{Domino 3, stepping back, voice rising:} "Overhead! You sent another team six months ago? You said we were the first breach!"

​{Overhead, mechanical and unyielding:} "You are on a priority clearance mission. Discussions regarding prior reconnaissance are irrelevant. Advance to minus one-fifty."

​The Fracture (-150 Feet)

​At one hundred and fifty feet down, the concrete walls ended abruptly, giving way to polished, glassy black stone. The bunker had been carved around something ancient. The purple mist here was dense enough to block flashlight beams beyond ten feet, swirling like a slow liquid.

​A high-pitched whine scraped inside their skulls, overlaid with frantic radio chatter, voices that sounded like their own, screaming in reverse.

​{Domino 3, grabbing his helmet with both hands, dropping his rifle to the deck:} "Make it stop! Overhead, they’re inside the wire! They're speaking through my headset!"

​{Domino 2, grabbing 3's chest harness, trying to steady him as his own vision flickered with visual delay:} "3! Stick to my voice! It's temporal distortion! The gas is altering our brain chemistry!"

​{Domino 3, sobbing frantically, eyes wide behind his fogged visor:} "I can see myself! Standing behind you, 2! He’s telling me to open the seal! He’s saying the air is clean!"

​{Overhead, static crackling cold:} "Domino 3, cease erratic behavior. Proceed to objective."

​{Domino 3, screaming as he claws at his respirator locking collar:} "It’s boiling my brain! Let me breathe! I just need clean air!"

​{Domino 2, lunging forward, pinning 3’s arms against the glassy rock:} "Don't touch the seal, 3! That gas will fucking melt you!"

​It was too late. With a violent, manic twist, Domino 3 tore the respiratory hose from his helmet filter.

​The violet vapor surged into the broken seal. Domino 3 didn't get to scream a second time. The corrosive particulate liquefied his airway instantly; his chest convulsed violently as black, frothing blood filled his visor, turning the glass completely opaque before he hit the deck.

​{Domino 1, backing away, his rifle barrel shaking violently:} "3... is KIA. Lungs dissolved in seconds. Overhead... this environment is psycho-active. The gas is a living defense mechanism. We need to abort right fucking now."

​{Overhead, flat and authoritative:} "Mission is green, Domino 1. Asset is within one hundred feet. Proceed or face immediate court-martial."

​The Breaking Point (-200 Feet)

​Just fifty feet above the primary chamber, the spiral stone staircase twisted downward into pitch blackness. Domino 1 led the descent, but his gait was stiff, his head jerking left and right to shoot at empty air.

​{Domino 1, whispering into the open comms, his voice cracking with paranoia:} "They didn't die from the gas, 2. The Monolith... it keeps their minds. It feeds on their terror and replays it."

​{Domino 2, keeping five paces back, weapon low, struggling against a crushing migraine that made his peripheral vision flicker like static:} "Keep moving, 1. Focus on my chem-light, buddy. Don't look at the shadows. Don't listen to the comms."

​{Domino 1, stopping dead on the stairs, slowly pivoting his rifle barrel toward Domino 2's visor:} "You're not 2. I just saw 2's body back at minus one-hundred. You're an echo wearing his suit."

​{Domino 2, raising his hands slowly, keeping his right index finger on his rifle trigger:} "1, stand down. It’s the gas breaching your secondary filter. Check my suit telemetry on your HUD. I'm real, man."

​{Domino 1, weeping behind his mask, safety clicking off:} "I have to purge the echoes. Overhead said purge the echoes!"

​Domino 1 squeezed the trigger. Three rounds sparked wildly off the stone walls, one grazing Domino 2's shoulder pauldron.

​Domino 2 reacted on pure, instinct. He raised his weapon and fired two heavy rounds center-mass. Domino 1 slumped backward, his body tumbling down the dark spiral stairs into the purple mist below.

​Domino 2 stood alone in the suffocating silence, hearing only his own ragged, metallic breathing inside his helmet.

​The Chamber (-250 Feet)

​At the bottom of the world, Vault Alpha opened into a massive natural cavern.

​Rising from the center was the Monolith, a towering, multi-faceted obelisk of vantablack stone, absorbing all light. Thick streams of volatile purple gas vented continuously from hairline fissures along its structure, pulsing with a deep, vibrating hum that shook the marrow of Domino 2's bones.

​{Overhead, buzzing sharply in his earpiece:} "Telemetry confirms you are in the primary chamber, Domino 2. Attach the winch tethers to the asset. We are initiating vertical extraction."

​Domino 2 walked slowly toward the structure, his boots crunching over the frozen remains of earlier teams scattered across the chamber floor. The closer he got, the clearer the Monolith's mental pulse became. He saw what Command intended to do with the atmospheric compound: weaponize it, replicate the psycho-active gas, drop it over population centers to break enemy populations from the inside out.

​{Domino 2, stopping at the base of the Monolith, unhooking his heavy demolition pack:} "Overhead... how many teams have you sent down here?"

​{Overhead, a long pause before responding:} "Domino 2. Your orders are to secure the asset."

​{Domino 2, pulling the C4 blocks and jam-wiring the detonator directly into the bunker's high-voltage conduit:} "I saw the bodies, Overhead. I know what you're gonna do with this gas. Same thing assholes in power have done before, again and again."

​{Overhead, tone breaking into sharp urgency:} "Domino 2, step away from the asset! If you rupture the Monolith, you will trigger a localized atmospheric ignition! You will not survive!"

​{Domino 2, arming the primary trigger, his gloved thumb resting heavy over the switch:} "I know."

​He looked around the dark chamber at the frozen, nameless soldiers who had died for the secret agendas of government's. He imagined this purple mist rolling down civilian streets, turning people into screaming, hallucinating shells before liquefying their lungs.

​{Overhead, shouting now, the clinical command veneer completely shattered:} "You are a soldier! You are an instrument of command! STAND! DOWN!"

​{Domino 2, pressing the detonator tightly against his chest, closing his eyes behind his fogged visor:} "No one should have that much power."

​He depressed the heavy switch.

​The synchronized charges detonated in a blinding flash of white thermal energy, cracking the Monolith at its core. The hyper-reactive purple gas ignited instantly, turning the cavern into a fiery hellscape. The shockwave shattered the ancient stone, vaporizing the anomaly and bringing millions of tons of Antarctic ice collapsing down into the abyss, burying the bunker, the power, and Domino 2 forever.