NOTICE
THIS FILE MAY BE UNDER THE EFFECT OF RETROCAUSALITY
If you begin to feel nauseous or uncertain of past events, stop reading immediately and report to your site temporal ward for evaluation.
Last updated: 01/28/2024
Item #: SCP-9025
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: ████████ Park, Mt. ████████ Park, and all surrounding public spaces are to be kept under constant watch by a team of specialists, and all irregularities reported to Dr. ████. Suspected SCP-9025-1 instances are to be apprehended and taken to Site-718 for study and questioning precluding their inevitable deaths.
A recorded instance of SCP-9025.
Description: SCP-9025 is an anomalous auditory phenomenon located in ████████ Park in ████████, ███ ████ that occurs every night between the hours of 18:00 and 4:00. During an SCP-9025 event, loud, distorted audio can be heard in the north end of the park, seeming to play from an unknown source in the distance. Regardless of where the listener is positioned, the audio sounds just far enough away to prevent clear sampling. Listeners report hearing music, as well as a male voice speaking to a supposed crowd, "hyping" them up for the next song, though this is ascertained from vocal quality alone, as the words are too distorted to fully comprehend.
SCP-9025's source has not yet been located. When attempting to do so, individuals experience a range of symptoms that impede their progress. Approaching SCP-9025 can cause slurred speech, reduced intellect, and a loss of sense of direction. Electronics are also known to malfunction in close proximity of SCP-9025, potentially explaining why so few electronic records of the phenomenon exist.
During an SCP-9025 event, numerous individuals hereafter referred to as SCP-9025-1 instances appear throughout the park with varying intervals, sometimes multiple at a time. SCP-9025-1 instances often appear from behind trees or inside of bushes, though none have been observed directly manifesting. These individuals emerge from their hiding places with symptoms matching that of severe intoxication, complete with loss of memory, sensation, and proprioception. Instances of SCP-9025-1 often carry identification cards, drivers licenses, phones, etc… which are all individually consistent, but either do not correspond with governmental records of any person who ever existed, or represent individuals thought to be missing or dead. Additionally, the dates of birth shown on said documents represent a wide range of years, with the earliest dating back to 1923, and one in particular as far into the future as █████. These subjects tend to be poorly integrated into our reality, and are unable to remain alive and functional for more than a few hours at a time.
Addendum 1 - Section 1: SCP-9025-1 Logs
The following is a list of notable SCP-9025-1 instances, but is not representative of the total number documented thus far. As of 01/28/2024, there have been 34,229 documented instances, most of whom died from cardiac arrest almost immediately upon discovery.
Name
Date of Birth (MM/DD/YYYY)
Date of Discovery (MM/DD/YYYY)
Fate
Sisco Burverdale
06/04/2066
02/11/2018
Four minutes after being interviewed, subject began to show signs of rapid aging. In a resulting fit of of panic, subject stabbed themself in the neck with a pencil and quickly bled to death.
Winston Hancock
03/11/2001
03/14/2018
Subject complained about excessive noise, which grew in intensity as the subject's body withered and rotted away.
Hutch Gross
██/██/█████
12/06/2018
Subject rounded a corner into an unobserved hallway and disappeared, leaving behind a piece of paper not initially discovered on their person.
Lilia Schniss
04/04/3435
07/02/2019
Subject escaped containment and ran back into the park. They were found, significantly older than when they appeared, sobbing while clawing at the grass. Subject died of cardiac arrest shortly after.
Lorri Touchler
Unknown
06/15/2020
Seconds after cordially introducing themself to Researcher Barnes, subject looked up at the sky, sighed, then immediately turned to ash along with everything on their person.
Dorothy Humber
10/16/2002
04/22/2021
Subject was erroneously permitted to use the facility bathrooms and disappeared.
Stacy Femcop
01/28/2026
01/28/2024
N/A (At large)
Addendum 1 - Section 2: Initial Subject Interview
Interviewer: Dr. Wim
Interviewee: SCP-9025-1.001 AKA "Sisco Burverdale"
As Dr. Wim approaches the table, subject begins speaking.
Sisco: Uh, yeah, whatever. Can I go back now?
Dr. Wim: In a bit, but first, we have a couple questions for you, Mr. Burverdale. To start, where were you this evening?
Sisco: Oh, like, so so many. Maybe hundreds of thousands, honestly.
Dr. Wim: Hmm, that doesn't really answer my question. Do you know where you are?
Sisco: All sorts of em, really. Kinda rad group.
Dr. Wim: Where did you come from tonight?
Sisco: Hello? Why'd you stop asking questions?
Dr. Wim: Uh, what? I didn't.
Sisco: Inside the park, I guess. They had a big clamshell amphitheater with a bunch of huge monitors and stuff.
Dr. Wim: Where are you from?
Sisco: Yeah.
Dr. Wim: Hmm… back to the park… you're talking about ████████ Park, correct?
Sisco: Where? Like, Kansas City, but after my parents divorce I moved to Iowa.
Dr. Wim: Do you know where tonight's event was being held?
Sisco: Didn't what? You're not making any sense, doc.
Dr. Wim: Hmm…..
Dr. Wim pauses to take notes.
Sisco: I told you, it was like, a music event or something.
Dr. Wim: And what sort of people were at the event?
Sisco: Some kind of lab?
Dr. Wim: How many people were in attendance?
Sisco: I don't know where exactly it was, but I wound up at some kind of music venue or whatever. I was scared at first, and like, there were a lot of people I didn't recognize, but I got into it and kinda lost track of time.
Dr. Wim: I… hmm.
Dr. Wim takes a few more notes.
Dr. Wim: Well, thank you. We appreciate your time, Mr. Burverdale.
Addendum 1 - Section 3: Visual Documentation of Flier
After the demanifestation of SCP-9025-1.5094, the following piece of paper was left in the Site-718 hallway in their stead. It is believed to be a form of advertisement for the source of SCP-9025.
< Close Image Transcript >
BRAD'S DEAD PARENTS PRESENT…
THE NEVERLANDERS REUNION TOUR
WITH
BRAD "THE AGELESS" HARLEY ON GUITAR
ROD "THE BUILDER" STRYAN ON BASS
STACY "THE WARRIOR" FEMCOP ON KEYS
AND FEATURING VOCALS BY KEVIN THE IMMORTAL JELLYFISH
Also Featuring
Doctor and Doctor Forever 21
Straw Cab Last Slice of Pi
The Hydras Daniel Brink
Permission to Propagate It Water
2na Harbinger's Daughter
Free* Entry
Now Playing Wherever You Can Hear Music And Whenever You'd Like
*iykyk
Spray painted across the flier: FUCK OFF SCP
Addendum 1 - Section 4: Transcript of Recovered Note
After the death of SCP-9025-1.14418, a handwritten note was left behind, which is transcribed below.
Dear SCP Fascists
Fuck off. We're not one of your experiments. I'm not kidnapping people or stealing their souls or whatever. I just like music. The more you send your shitty researchers and agents to try and find us, the more you waste your own time and money and fucking miniscule brain power trying to "solve" a "problem" that isn't a problem and doesn't need solving. You want to put us in your system? Call us anartists. Whatever gets you to LEAVE. US. THE. FUCK. ALONE. This is not a threat, it is a pissed off plea to you and all your power hungry bosses. You have been harassing us for years, and for what? To interview people as they're dying? You know what would happen if you left them alone? Instead of turning to dust in your offices, they'd be turning to dust in the park, looking up at the sky. Guess which one saves you asshats the cleanup? Oh, that's right, it's the FUCKING LATTER. You want a Q and A? Here, knock yourself out.
Who are you?
- None of your business.
What's making all that noise?
- A concert.
Where is the concert?
- None of your business.
Why do people keep appearing in the park?
- They're leaving the concert.
What do the people who leave the concert keep dying of?
- Old age.
How are there attendees from the future?
- Time travel.
How are you able to time travel?
- None of your business.
Is your name really Stacy Femcop?
- No, it's a stage name.
Why Femcop?
- It's an opposites thing.
What's your real name?
- None of your business.
Why are you doing this?
- I like music.
I have no doubt that if you keep searching for the concert, you will eventually find it. We aren't a secret organization. All our money comes from Brad's inheritance, and it's far from endless. But here's the thing. You. Don't. Have. To. Find. Us. The way I see it, there are two scenarios. One where you keep shoving your noses where they aren't needed, you find the concert, and in so doing you make a fucking hole in reality and brutally slaughter thousands of happy attendees for the sake of curiosity. The other scenario? FUCK THE FUCK OFF. LEAVE US ALONE.
See you never you fucking pigs
Stacy
Due to the hostility and threatening nature of the note left by SCP-9025-1.14418, the information provided was roundly rejected by the administrative council as intentionally inaccurate, since the note's author clearly wanted to throw off the investigation into SCP-9025.
As of 06/17/2020, SCP-9025 was considered a Foundation priority. The administrative council allocated the entirety of the Site-718 and Site-719 staff and budget towards finding trends in SCP-9025-1 manifestations and furthering the search for SCP-9025's origin.
Addendum 2 - Section 1: First Confrontation
To: ████████
From: ██████
Subject: SCP-9025
They found a note with SCP-9025-1.14418 from SCP-9025-1i. We need to hold an emergency admin tonight.
Wherever this greasy little fucker is, we can't have them spitting all over our heels and calling it shoeshine. Action needs to be taken to hold SCP-9025-1i accountable.
Sent 06/15/2020
To: ██████
From: ████████
Subject: Re:SCP-9025
We'll hold it tomorrow. Can't get everyone together at the drop of a dime.
And would you please stop using their reference code? I know you hate their stupid moniker but let's just make it easier on all of us and call them Stacy Femcop. Hmm?
Sent 06/15/2020
BY ORDER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL
The following transcript is confidential for personnel level 4 and below.
< Close Meeting Notes >
Administrative council meeting notes
06/16/2020
Attending Members:
- O5-6, AKA ████████ ██████
- O5-9, AKA ██████ █████
- O5-10, AKA █████ █████
- O5-11, AKA ████████ ███
- O5-12, AKA ██████ ███-███████
- SCP-9025-1i, AKA Stacy Femcop
O5-9: Alright, 6, you've got your audience.
O5-6: It's shameful that the rest aren't making themselves known, you know. Absolutely shameful.
O5-10: They didn't think this was important enough. I don't either. Prove me wrong, 6.
O5-11 nods in agreement.
O5-6: Ridiculous. SCP-9025 is a bigger deal than those uppity self serving slobs know.
O5-12: I genuinely hate to agree with 6 about anything, but…
O5-12 pulls a flash drive from on their person.
O5-12: I found this in my office today. It has a single, mp4 video file on it. Nothing anomalous, I had Sebastian run it through everything. It's just a regular video. But uh… it might be of some interest to you, 6.
O5-6: What is this, ██████?
O5-6 snatches the drive out of O5-12's hands and plugs it into a port below the table. A screen appears on the wall at the end of the room, and a video file begins to play. The video appears to show a live feed of the administrative meeting room.
O5-6: The hell, a security camera? You said it was a video.
O5-12 grabs a remote and points it at the screen. They pause the video.
O5-12: It is.
O5-6: Then how is it showing us what's currently happening?
O5-12 sighs and unpauses the video. It replays O5-6 saying "Then how is it showing us what's currently happening?", then cuts forward to once again sync up with present events.
O5-6 looks at the screen, an eyebrow raised, then turns towards the origin of the video feed, which appears to be the currently empty O5-1 chair at the end of the table. On screen, O5-6 can be seen staring directly into the camera.
O5-6: What kind of fucking shenanigans…
1i: Hey, can you hear me?
O5-6 and the rest of the overseers, minus 12, jump in their seats as a high pitched female voice begins to play from the speakers next to the large screen.
O5-6: What in the name of all that is holy…
1i: Oh please, you of all people don't believe in God.
O5-6: Is this a video or not?
1i: It is. You can rewind it again if you'd like. I'll just say the same thing over and over until you let it continue.
O5-9: Are you Stacy Femcop?
1i: Are you ██████ █████?
O5-9 appears taken off guard but quickly regains their composure.
O5-9: That depends on who's asking.
1i: Me, obviously. And, while we're on the subject, kinda fucked up to put me into your system as "One I".
O5-9: You're the first person of interest in the investigation. I stands for interest.
O5-6: What is this, 1i, time travel?
Stacy: Yeah? I thought I made that clear in my letter. I mean, I'm a simple musician. I'm not really into all this sci-fi bullshit, but it's the only real way to do any of this.
O5-10 pulls out their laptop and opens it.
Stacy: I wouldn't bother trying to reverse engineer my voice changer, █████. It's going to give you 6's voice as the origin.
O5-10 raises an eyebrow, types a few lines into their laptop, then stares at it, stunned, and begrudgingly shuts the computer.
O5-6: What? Why do you have my voice?
Stacy: I'm not secretly you, if that's what you're getting at. That isn't the twist. Fuck it, there is no twist! This isn't a game of cat and mouse, I just want to play music! Which brings me to- don't interrupt me- which brings me to my main point. Why won't you leave me alone? Leave us alone? I get you don't like people showing up in ████████ Park and dying, but you've got to have worse things to deal with in your fucking organization archives or whatever.
O5-9: Stacy, if you know everything we're going to ask ahead of time, don't you also know our answers to your questions? Why bother with this interaction to begin with?
Stacy: I don't know everything you're going to say, I'm just prerecording my half of the conversation. Everything you're saying is new to me, I'm literally watching it right now for the first time.
O5-6: Watching it on what? How do you have access to this facility?
Stacy: Nunya. But you can hook my voice up to a lie detector if you want, cause what I'm about to say is 100% true. I can see and hear most of what goes on in your Foundation, and I have absolutely no interest in it. I do not intend to steal any of your data, blackmail any of your employees, mess with any of your secrets… I am literally just trying to hold a goddamn infinity concert and you're over here acting like I'm the next big… uh… "Meck… Hane". Sorry I don't know if that's right, I'm just looking at a list of really dangerous shit in your files, but I think you get my point.
O5-6 slams his fist into the table.
O5-6: This is unacceptable! We are the representatives of the most important underground agency in the world, you can't just… run circles around us and look at our most classified documents without expecting retaliation!
Stacy: Again, I am literally only doing this because you keep trying to find my secrets. But unlike you, I'm not hurting anyone!
O5-9: What about all the people manifesting in the park and dying? Can you at the very least explain that?
There's a long pause.
O5-9: You couldn't have edited out the pause?
Stacy: Okay, first of all, I'm leaving that pause in because I think showing that I'm not editing it out is another sign of proof of honesty. And second of all… fuck! Just… Not everybody fits, okay? I wanted to make this place able to hold as many people as possible who wanted to leave their old lives behind and come jam and party forever. But pocket dimensions are hard, 'specially when they're outside of the timestream.
O5-6: You seem to know a lot for a simple musician who isn't into all this "sci-fi bullshit".
Stacy: Oh fuck off, ████████, you act just like the cops you imitate. You think me not kissing your ass is reason enough to declare war on me. You telling me your organization doesn't fuck with the concept of the few for the many?
O5-9: That's the difference, Stacy. We're an organization. We have practices and standards to make sure that when we make a decision like that, it's backed by ethical safeguards.
Stacy: Oh your esteemed Ethics Committee? When's the last time you spoke to them? Better yet, when's the last time you responded to one of their emails?
O5-6: That is not your place, 1i. I have half a mind to declare you an official enemy of the-
Stacy: Hey sorry, I'm gonna have to stop you right there chief, this video is almost over so I assume I have to wrap this up, but I'm just going to keep throwing an awesome concert for people who want to escape from the hell that is life on Earth. If you want to invade heaven, that's going to be on you. I'm done here.
O5-6: I'm not done talking to you, you fucking squib! I'll have your head on a silver platter you goddamn degenerate! I-
O5-9: 6, the video ended. You're yelling at a file.
O5-6: Fuck!
O5-6 picks up a stack of papers from a nearby shelf and throws them at the screen. They scatter across the floor.
O5-6: Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fucking asshole! I'll tear you apart, you hear me? Disrespect me in front of my own damn affiliates? You're LUCKY the rest of the council wasn't here, the visceral carnage I would have enacted… FUCK!
O5-6 punches the wall behind him, putting a hole in it.
There's a long pause.
O5-9: I believe them.
O5-6 stares at O5-9, fuming.
O5-6: You WHAT?
O5-9: I'm not worried about Stacy's access to the database. I think it's pretty clear what they're doing. Opening a pocket dimension outside the flow of time isn't anything new, we even tested one years ago as a potential method of containing 682. It's stupid, and it will probably result in the slow deaths of everyone inside the pocket, but as long as we keep ████████ Park free at night, I just don't see a problem with letting this thing run its course.
O5-6: We've d- you… don't you- th… they have access to everything! They know our names! They know about… wh- how are you this calm?
O5-9: Come on, 6, they used their omniscience to tell us they're omniscient. If they had something to hide, why the hell would they do that?
O5-11: I agree with 9. I also don't care. This is an amateur we're talking about. They had to use a fucking voice changer. That's child's play. 9 is right. They're also a time traveler. If they were going to do something with the data, they would have done it. I say leave them alone. Or leave me out of it. Whatever. I'm done here.
O5-11 stands up and exits. O5-10 does the same.
O5-9: 6, I think if you keep focusing on this, it's going to consume you. But that's not for me to stop, so, fuck it, all in favor of giving 6 full control of the SCP-9025 file?
O5-12, the only other person in the room besides O5-6, raises their hand.
O5-9: Great. I hope you ignore this like all of us are doing, 6, but if you don't, oh well. Have fun chasing your own tail.
O5-9 and O5-12 stand up and exit.
After a long silence, O5-6 does the same.
Addendum 2 - Section 2: Further analysis
Immediately following SCP-9025's priority bump, an experiment was proposed with SCP-D-045, a Thaumiel class device that could be used to verify the legitimacy of speech and writing. The note and video recording fabricated by Stacy Femcop were run through SCP-D-045 60 times over the course of two days. Of the 60 tests, 59 proclaimed them to contain no intentionally incorrect or dishonest information, and 1 test came back inconclusive. SCP-D-045 was subsequently decommissioned.
The following is a graph of known SCP-9025-1 manifestations between 06/17/2020 and 01/28/2024.
The graph represents upwards of twenty-two thousand individuals appearing in ████████ Park and rapidly aging to death within less than an hour.
Addendum 2 - Section 3: Second Confrontation
On 01/28/2024, at 22:36, a shirtless SCP-9025-1 instance with an open leather jacket, blonde beard, and sunglasses was seen on security camera appearing from beneath a footbridge in ████████ Park. While most SCP-9025-1 instances are disoriented and confused upon manifestation, SCP-9025-1.34229 appeared to be at full mental capacity, though did appear panicked and alarmed.
SCP-9025-1.34229 began frantically searching their pants and jacket pockets, tossing their wallet and a number of balled up scraps of paper in an attempt to locate something. Finally, they reached behind their ear and took hold of a small pen that was tucked behind the band of their glasses.
SCP-9025-1.34229 quickly wrote something on their arm. The subject reached to begin picking up the mess they had dropped, but saw two Foundation agents approaching them, and quickly fled back under the footbridge. Following this, they were not able to be located, but the wallet and scraps of paper were recovered.
To: ████████
From: ██████
Subject: We got Stacy!
Park team's saying they almost caught a 9025-1 today who we're thinking was Femcop. Person acted way more sober than usual, and wrote runes on his arm before disappearing into a bridge.
BUT THE LITTLE SHIT LEFT HIS WALLET BEHIND! Real name's a mouthful, get this: Archer Federa-Lespit. And his birthday is only in a couple of years! If we figure out who the parents are, we could be there to confront Femcop at the day of his fucking BIRTH!
I TOLD YOU it was all going to be worth it! We'll catch this hairy fuckhead yet.
Sent 01/28/2024
To: ██████
From: ████████
Subject: Re:We got Stacy!
I do not care.
Sent 01/29/2024
To: ████████
From: ██████
Subject: Re:Re:We got Stacy!
Oh fuck you, 9.
Sent 01/29/2024
Following the incident on 01/28/2024, the number of daily -1 manifestations has increased by an average of +5 per day, and the circumstances have slightly shifted. In the past, -1s have acted intoxicated and confused, but since 1.34229, every -1 manifested has been either calm and silent or manic and fearful, with very little in-between.
Addendum 3 - Section 1: Federa-Lespit
From the personal computer of O5-6, AKA ████████ ██████.
<O5-6>: So you find our guy yet, Renna?
<Dr. Renna>: Quite possibly! The wallet you sent us had some very tiny skin flakes that gave us just enough to do a full scan of.
<O5-6>: And?
<Dr. Renna>: And we think we found the parents! Hold on, I'm sending their info now.
Anna Lespit
DNA Match: 51.81%
Age: 34
Status: Divorced
Lives in ██████ ████, Michigan. Works as a security guard.
No kids.
Daniel Federa
DNA Match: 46.02%
Age: 41
Status: Married
Lives in ██████, New York. Works in fast food.
Wife is pregnant, expecting first child in 3-4 weeks.
<O5-6>: The fuck is this? They don't live anywhere near each other, how the hell are they supposed to give birth to a kid in two years?
<Dr. Renna>: I don't know, sir, but these are the closest matches we found by a wide margin.
<O5-6>: No, that can't be right. You double checked?
<Dr. Renna>: Triple, even.
<O5-6>: Fuck. Fuck! What the hell good does it do us to know who his parents are if there's no way in hell they're gonna have him on the day he's supposed to be born?
<Dr. Renna>: I'm not sure, sir. Maybe the ID Card is wrong?
<Dr. Renna>: Sir? Are you still there?
<O5-6>: I'm thinking.
<O5-6>: 9 months, right? To grow a baby?
<Dr. Renna>: That's right.
<O5-6>: Hmm…
<O5-6>: Send me both of their files.
<Dr. Renna>: Right away, sir.
Timeline of Events, February 1st, 2024 - January 18th, 2026
February 6th, 2024: Bella Federa goes into labor weeks ahead of schedule and is rushed to the St. Charles' Prosperity medical center in Queens.
February 8th, 2024: After a grueling multi-day labor, Bella Federa dies during childbirth.
February 13th, 2024: Gabriel Federa ████ ██ ██████ ████.
February 16th, 2024: Daniel Federa ████████ ███████.
March 2nd, 2024: Daniel Federa is released from inpatient care at St. Charles'.
March 8th, 2024: Anna Lespit loses her job after reportedly not noticing a break-in.
March 13th, 2024: Daniel Federa begins seeing grief psychologist Dr. Kelsey Win.
March 18th, 2024: Anna Lespit moves back in with her parents.
April 1st, 2024: Jeff and Sandy Lespit are killed by a drunk driver.
May 20th, 2024: Anna Lespit is contacted by Strength-Core Protection, a security agency in New York City.
May 22nd, 2024: Anna Lespit receives a job offer and accepts.
June 8th, 2024: Anna Lespit moves to New York City.
June 16th, 2024: Daniel Federa and Anna Lespit are both invited to an exclusive dinner at 7th Street Cafe & Parlor.
June 19th, 2024: Daniel Federa and Anna Lespit meet during the day at 7th Street Cafe & Parlor for coffee.
July 9th, 2024: Anna Lespit and Daniel Federa go on their first date.
October 31st, 2024: Anna Lespit and Daniel Federa engage in their first act of sexual intercourse.
November 18th, 2024: Daniel Federa introduces Anna Lespit to his parents.
February 3rd, 2025: Anna Lespit and Daniel Federa get engaged.
April 9th, 2025: Anna Lespit and Daniel Federa get married.
April 28th, 2025: Anna Lespit becomes pregnant.
January 27th, 2026: Anna Lespit goes into labor.
From the personal computer of O5-6, AKA ████████ ██████.
<Dr. Renna>: Good news, sir! Mrs. Lespit was just admitted to the maternity ward at ███████ Hospital.
<O5-6:> What? Why wasn't she sent to St. Charles'?
<Dr. Renna>: Mr. Federa drove her, sir, we weren't able to send an ambulance ourselves.
<O5-6>: Fuck, do we have an in?
<Dr. Renna>: No, but since I was involved with Mr. Federa's care team in 2024, I don't imagine it would raise any alarm bells to have me stop by and offer my support and congratulations.
<O5-6>: Fine, just message when you get there.
<Dr. Renna>: Yes sir.
<Dr. Renna>: I've just arrived, sir. Daniel greeted me with open arms. I've been invited to stay until after the child is born.
<O5-6>: So everything's in place? The kid's going to be born tomorrow?
<Dr. Renna>: Yes sir. Though… there is one slight… I wouldn't say problem. Complication, maybe?
<O5-6>: Yes?
<Dr. Renna>: Well, when I spoke to Daniel and Mrs. Lespit, they informed me that they already had a name picked out, and… that they're having a girl.
<O5-6>: A GIRL? WHAT DO YOU MEAN A GIRL???
<Dr. Renna>: Well, it isn't all bad news. At least… we're pretty sure it confirms that Federa-Lespit and 1i are the same individuals.
<O5-6>: HOW?
<Dr. Renna>: Well, the child's name… they're going to call her "Stacy".
<Dr. Renna>: Sir?
<O5-6>: Stacy.
<Dr. Renna>: Stacy Federa-Lespit.
<O5-6>: What the fuck? That doesn't make any sense…
<Dr. Renna>: Well, we've had… er, I've had a hunch for a while now, and- you remember how when 1.34229 appeared, all they were wearing was a leather jacket?
<O5-6>: Yes.
<Dr. Renna>: We noticed a few distinct… scars. On the subject's torso. That may explain the confusion.
<O5-6>: Scars?
<O5-6>: Oh, Jesus Christ. "An opposites thing".
<Dr. Renna>: Yes, sir.
<O5-6>: I miss the 90's.
Addendum 3 - Section 2: Third Confrontation
The following footage was acquired from the ███████ Hospital security office.
01-28-2026
A man stands against a wall in the ███████ Hospital rear parking lot. He's wearing a dark blue hoodie and his face is covered. A blonde beard is visible through the opening.A car pulls into a handicap spot and from the driver's side door, another man exits the vehicle. He begins walking towards the front entrance.
The hooded man calls out to the driver. He turns and stops in his tracks, staring at the hooded man.
The driver approaches the hooded man and begins to talk to him. Though the footage has no audio, the driver's body language is heightened and aggressive.
The pair has a conversation in the parking lot for two minutes.
The hooded man shrugs at the driver and attempts to walk away. The driver grabs him by the shirt and pulls him in, seeming to shout at the man.
The hooded man attempts to reason with the driver. The driver pulls his sleeve up, revealing several mechanical arm bands. He holds one up to the hooded man's face, and the hooded man goes limp in his arms.
The driver pulls the now unconscious hooded man back into the car he drove in, then gets into the driver's seat and pulls out of the parking lot.
Interviewer: O5-6
Interviewee: SCP-9025-1i AKA "Archer Federa-Lespit" AKA "Stacy Femcop"
O5-6 sits down at the table, across from Stacy Femcop, who is bound to their chair, unconscious. O5-6 slams his fist into the table, and Stacy jolts awake.
O5-6: Hi Stacy.
Stacy: What the hell… where did you take me, you fucking lunatic?
O5-6: What's the matter, Stacy? I thought you knew all of our dirty little secrets. Can't tell the inside of a Foundation holding cell when you see one?
Stacy: Not having so much trouble calling me that name now that you know I was born with it, huh? You fucking cop?
O5-6 ███████ Stacy in the face, breaking his nose.
Stacy: JESUS CHRIST! What the hell is wrong with-"
O5-6 ███████ him in the face again, splitting his lip. Stacy begins to bleed from his nose and mouth.
Stacy: You're a psychopath! What the hell are you SCP fucks getting out of this, pleasure? I thought you were supposed to help people!
O5-6: I am helping people. Helping make sure no one else shows up in the middle of the park, screaming for their lives, sobbing into the grass until their bones grow frail and they wither into sand.
Stacy: That isn't what this is about, you dickhead, you killed my grandparents for this! You've killed everyone in there over and over and over again! Do you not see how immensely fucked all of this is? I don't deserve this much attention!
O5-6: Oh can it, Stacy. Aren't you the one who tried to preach me on "The few for the many"? Or was that a different security-skirting time traveler?
Stacy: For fuck's sake, I didn't kill those people!
O5-6: Then what? Cause I don't buy "old age".
Stacy: Look… fuck. FUCK! You have to let me go at the end of all this. I… there are still parts of the timeline that haven't been addressed yet, I- I need to survive and make it back to Neverland before the next set begins.
O5-6: Neverland? Is that what you're calling the concert? Like from the fucking kid's movie?
Stacy: Kid's book, and yes. It felt… thematically appropriate. A magical land you can go to and live forever. Lot of good that did us in the long run, though. At least Peter Pan's enemies stayed in Neverland.
O5-6: Live forever… so it's true then, you created a pocket dimension without an internal timestream.
Stacy: Wh- you know this! You know we did. We tried. I… tried. And it worked… mostly. When you're in there, you don't age… exactly. Or, you do, but very slowly.
O5-6: Then why the dead bodies? Why the sine wave?
Stacy: Fuck, man, it started when we noticed that people were disappearing in large clumps and not returning. Brad did some digging and apparently… look, this is how he explained it to me, so I don't know if it's going to make a ton of sense, but think of Neverland like a boat floating in the water. It can stay above sea level, but the more people who come in, the closer it gets to the ocean floor. Get enough people, and water starts leaking in. Or in this case, people start leaking… out.
Stacy: A-and we needed to make sure… we didn't want it to be one of us, you know… not out of selfishness! I mean… we were the facilitators! We had to make sure the music kept flowing. The people stayed happy. We had created heaven, but to ensure heaven didn't end… we had to make some sacrifices. Small ones! But…
Stacy sighs.
Stacy: I'm not proud of this, but we started drugging folks. Slipping them something extra, then sending 'em on their way to make sure… we stayed afloat. We'd have these cycles… more people join, so we compensate by getting rid of more people each set. But apparently it wasn't enough, cause… well, I guess you already know why our strategy changed.
O5-6: You never expected you'd be one of the ones getting washed away.
Stacy: I made it back, but… the damage was done. I had disappeared in the middle of a set, and like I said, time… moves differently in there. I had only been gone for what felt like a minute, but I'd missed sixty years worth of concerts. So when I came back… I had to explain what happened. Why people kept disappearing. Why… they had to keep disappearing. It was the first time in tens of thousands of years that Neverland was quiet.
Stacy: And then someone suggested, you know, from the crowd. Why not just do it randomly? Keep everything fair. I mean, if people only had to get booted once every century or so, just hold a lottery. If you get picked, your time in heaven is up, and you… you know. Go back to the real world. Course, by that point, everyone knew what happened when you go back home. So whenever we hold the lottery now, if someone gets picked who wasn't too happy 'bout having to leave their infinite paradise… it isn't pleasant.
O5-6: God damn, Stacy. That's a lot to drop on a guy all at once.
Stacy: Hey, you wanted the truth. I'm really trying to keep everybody in there happy. I mean I've got a couple hundred thousand people who wanted so badly to leave the world behind, they agreed to give it all up for us. And it isn't infinite, not really, but it's pretty damn close. Almost-infinite. Almost-infinite time to just… be yourself. No holds barred. A country worth of people who don't have to worry about money, or housing, or fuckin… stress. All coming together because they love music. It's… it's so important, man. It's everything.
O5-6: "It's everything", give me a fucking break. Do you know how lame you sound? Do you understand how fucking dangerous this kind of technology is? It's only a matter of time before the sub-universal barrier gives way, and then? You're gonna have a mountain of dead bodies piled up in the middle of ████████ Park, and you, the wannabe-Jehova, right at the center of it, having achieved nothing but lifetime after lifetime of worthless fucking hedonism. I don't call that "everything," Stacy Fuckface. I call it "nothing".
Stacy: I don't really care what you call it. If I can give all those people thousands of years of joy, it's worth the losses. It's worth the eventual heartbreak when, millions of years down the line, maybe the boat tips over and sinks. But you'd better believe that when the time comes, the captains are going to go down with their crew in a blaze of fucking glory.
O5-6: Well I'm not going to let that happen.
Stacy laughs.
Stacy: Retrocausality's a bitch, 6. I can't die here, because there are events in the loop I have yet to accomplish.
O5-6: Like what?
Stacy: Come on, 6, I can't answer that. My whole purpose here is to convince your past self NOT to invade Neverland. Not much good I can do by telling you how I'm going to do it.
O5-6: My past self? Why not my current self?
Stacy shakes his head.
Stacy: Wrong part of the timeline, chief. There's no undoing this version's atrocities. That's why I need to make a new one.
O5-6: Wh- atrocities? The hell are you talking about, Stacy? I've never even been to this fuckin… "Neverland."
Stacy raises an eyebrow.
Stacy: Yes you have.
O5-6: No I haven't.
Stacy: Yes you have.
O5-6: No. I haven't.
Stacy: That's… no. That isn't possible. What about your thumb?
O5-6 holds up his left hand and looks at the thumb.
Stacy: No, asshole, the right one! Your right thumb!
O5-6 holds up his right hand and looks at the thumb. Stacy goes completely pale.
Stacy: Wh- no… no no NO! NO!! WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DID- I THOUGHT YOU- WHICH ONE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW???
O5-6: Jesus, how stupid are you fucking idiots, you can't even keep track of what timeline you're in?
Stacy: SHUT UP! YOU NEED TO RELEASE ME NOW!!
O5-6: What haven't you done yet, Stacy? What mad disaster would I be preventing by letting you go?
Stacy: SHUT UP! I am not joking right now, ████████, I need to-
O5-6 slaps Stacy across the face.
Stacy: WHAT THE FUCK?
O5-6: Don't use my name.
Stacy: SHUT UP! YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO!
O5-6: That's not how it works, Stacy. If you know me so well, you would know that by now.
Stacy: FINE! You want answers? L-l-look at my arm! Look, see? Runes! Symbols! All the shit I use to get to the f-fucking pocket dimension! Take it for your goddamn notes, but then LET. ME. GO!
O5-6: Wow… you really do sound crazy.
O5-6 grabs Stacy's shirt sleeve and rips it forcefully off, exposing an entire arm covered in runes and symbols, scrawled in pen.
O5-6: You have anything else on your body?
Stacy: No, 6, I don't! But you can check if you'd like, just promise you'll let me leave!
O5-6: I promise.
Stacy: F-fine.
O5-6 pulls at Stacy's clothing, checking each corner of his body for writing. He finds none.
Stacy: S-satisfied?
O5-6 pulls out a small camera and takes a number of photographs of the pen arm.
O5-6: Extremely.
Before Stacy can react, O5-6 grabs hold of his pen arm and begins rubbing away at the symbols.
Stacy: WAIT! STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?
O5-6: I can't have you using these to escape on me. I've had thousands of your heaven-goers in this very room, I know how easy it is for them to turn a blind spot into an exit.
O5-6 continues vigorously smudging the pen on Stacy's arm. Stacy punches and bites at O5-6, but to no avail.
Stacy: STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THIS NOW! THIS DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE! IT DOESN'T END HERE, IT CAN'T END HERE! I NEED TO CLOSE THE LOOP! I NEED- WAIT PLEASE- PLeasssseeee…
As Stacy pleads, he begins to weaken in O5-6's clutch. His mouth droops and sags as he attempts to finish his sentence. In an instant, his hand, which was firmly grasped around O5-6's throat, falls limply at his side, the skin shriveling and rotting away. A final, raspy breath exits from Stacy Femcop's mouth before he, clothes and all, falls to the floor, no more than a pile of ash and dust.
O5-6 looks at the pile in shock, but quickly shakes it off and looks toward the two-way mirror at the end of the room.
O5-6: Start rallying the task force. We just found our ticket to Neverland.
Addendum 4
Neverland
BY ORDER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL
The following file is confidential for personnel level 4 and below.
5/9025-2 LEVEL 5/9025-2
CLASSIFIED
Item #: SCP-9025-2
Object Class: Safe
Image taken inside of SCP-9025-2. Censored for viewing purposes.
Image taken inside of SCP-9025-2. Censored for viewing purposes.
Description: SCP-9025-2 is a pocket dimension located in ████████ Park in ████████, ███ ████. The pocket dimension is abstractly circular, with an average radius of 2.23 miles, and is surrounded on all sides by thick foliage. Though it is suspected that this was not always the case, the sky in SCP-9025-2 is dark red, as is all light that comes from its frequently overcast sky.
SCP-9025-2 was created by a group of anartists taking the form of a punk/rock band named "The Neverlanders". Though this is unconfirmed, it is suspected that the keyboard player of the band, Stacy Femcop AKA Archer Federa-Lespit, was responsible for the creation of SCP-9025-2, and the rites that became necessary to access it.
To enter SCP-9025-2, an individual must satisfy three requirements, then follow a specific set of instructions.
- 1. The individual must have painted or somehow inscribed a set of runes on their body.
- 2. The individual must know, at least somewhat, of the existence of SCP-9025-2.
- 3. The individual must love music.
An individual who satisfies all three requirements must choose a designated entry location. These locations appear to be arbitrarily chosen and set up by one or more of the members of The Neverlanders, and with time, more are expected to be uncovered across the globe. These locations tend to be somehow secretive, such as around the corner of a hallway or inside of a tunnel. If the individual walks through the location with their eyes closed, as long as they want to make it inside of SCP-9025-2, they will.
Personnel Log - 01/30/2026
MTF-06 walks beneath the bridge, one by one, with Stacy Femcop's runes written on their arms. As they enter the pitch black and hold their breaths, they feel themselves become lighter, as if the ground is lifting them up from beneath their feet. One by one, with O5-6 in the lead, the members of MTF-06 enter SCP-9025-2.
As they open their eyes, a shocking sight is laid out before them.
The members emerge from below a sound stage and are met by an amphitheater filled, in every seat, with a dead and mutilated human body. A pond of blood has formed beneath the seats, and has pooled in a dark red river in the aisles. There isn't a chair in the entire room that isn't taken up by an eviscerated corpse.
O5-6: Oh my- [retches] -oh my god…
MTF-061: Jesus Christ!
The remaining five members each catch a glimpse of the carnage. Of them, four begin vomitting, and one breaks down into tears.
MTF-061: What are we walking into, 6, I thought this was supposed to be a bunch of party-goers!
O5-6: Quiet! So did I! Take the lead, take the fucking lead!
O5-6 shoves MTF-061 forward. MTF-061 moves a nearby body with the barrel of his gun. They appear to have had their ████ ███████ ████ ████ ███ █████. MTF-061 gags.
MTF-062: Fuck this. I didn't sign up for a tour of the slaughterhouse.
MTF-061: Shut up, Martinelli. Listen for a second.
The task force members stand in silence. There's no sound coming from anywhere.
MTF-061: We stay together, huddled, and alert. Guns at the ready. Whatever did this, it doesn't seem very good at being subtle. We won't be taken by surprise.
MTF-061 presses forward, through row after row of corpses. ████████████, ███████████, █████ ████ █████ ███ ██ ███ ██████… no body is free from violent mutilation.
MTF-066 continues to sob as they walk through viscera, splashing blood across their legs as they move. The rest of the team isn't far from doing the same.
MTF-065: What the hell could do this much… I mean… just all… it's unthinkable.
MTF-061: Hush up. There's no point dwelling till we get a better look at the environment. Just… don't look down. Keep your eyes on the head of the person in front of you, and walk.
The team does as MTF-061 asks. They reach the stairs to the higher levels, and begin to ascend, towards the theater's exit.
MTF-061: Up the steps now, don't slow down. We're almost out in the op- en.
MTF-061 stops walking and stares, blankly, at the world outside the amphitheater. O5-6 bumps into him, nearly losing balance on the steps.
O5-6: Fuck is wrong with you, Smith, didn't you just say not to slow d-
O5-6 is cut off by the view outside. The concert hall sits just below the top of a hill, brightly lit by a hazy red sky, in the middle of a massive grassy field. Littering the field, in every direction, are hundreds of thousands of human corpses, no better for wear than the ones inside. It's impossible to tell if the grass is red from the blinding crimson sky, or the blood seeping out of the stadium-worth of flesh resting beneath.
MTF-066 looks around, seeing nothing but pain and horror wherever he turns. Without a word, he raises the barrel of his gun to the bottom of his chin, and ██████ himself in the ████. Blood sprays across MTF-065 and MTF-064 as MTF-066's body falls limp against the wet grass.
The sound of the gunshot rings out across the lifeless field, echoing off of the thick forest surrounding the area. The smell of gun powder wafts above the smell of meat and gore, and then dissipates into the air.
And then, suddenly, a voice calls forth from the distance, behind the theater. The team turns and looks in its direction.
MTF-063: Wh- who was-
MTF-061: Shh!
They listen. The voice calls out again, slightly clearer than before. It's a male voice. One O5-6 has heard before. In fact, he knows it well.
Stacy: Hello! Help me! Help! Anyone! If you're there! Help!
MTF-062: Quick! We have to-
O5-6: Shut it. All of you. I'm taking command again. Follow. At a distance. SILENT.
O5-6 rushes to the top of the hill and around the theater. He surveys the field below until he spots, half a mile away, a pile of corpses, stacked as high as a building. He sprints down the hill, the task force following quickly behind, and before long, reaches the bodies.
A hand claws and scratches from below the bodies. O5-6 studies it. Up the arm, close to the elbow, a number of symbols are scrawled in blue pen. O5-6 motions for the team to back up, then reaches down, grabs hold of Stacy Femcop's hand, and pulls. Hard. He strains, but finally, something gives way, and with a "pop", Stacy is pulled free from his putrid prison. He screams in pain, but his other hand remains firmly positioned against his right eye. Dried blood covers his face.
Stacy: Thank you, thank- [retches] -thank you! I didn't think anyone else was alive, I just- I jh-
Stacy turns around, hand still covering his right eye, and sees the face of his savior. He breaks into tears.
Stacy: NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME! DON'T HURT ME! STOP! STOP!
O5-6: Stacy, what the ever-loving FUCK is going on here, who did this?
Stacy scoots further and further away, sobbing, pleading.
Stacy: Stop stop stop stop stop! Leave me alone! Don't hurt me! Stop!
O5-6 motions towards Stacy, and MTF-061 nods. MTF-062 and MTF-063 approach Stacy, who can only scoot so fast, and grab him by the arms, pulling him up, kicking and screaming. His arm is wrenched away from his right eye, revealing a bruised and battered pile of what was once, quite possibly, ocular tissue.
Stacy: No no no please please don't kill me please! Ple- [sob] -e- [sob] -e…easeeee!
O5-6: Stacy, relax, we're not gonna- for fuck's sake, what happened?
Stacy continues sobbing. O5-6 huffs in frustration, walks closer to Stacy, and slaps him across the face. Stacy barely reacts.
Stacy: No no no no no no no no…
MTF-061: Do you know this man, commander?
O5-6: I do, yeah. He's uh… he's the uh… the founder. Of all this. The uh. Fuck. Neverland.
O5-6 rubs his eyes.
O5-6: Sorry, just… Jesus. I mean, this is… phew. I've seen my fair share, but uh. This is. A lot.
MTF-061 swallows, nodding.
Stacy, still being held by the arms, stops writhing around. After a moment, MTF-062 and MTF-063 lower him to the ground, letting go of him, but staying close to make sure he doesn't try to leave again. Stacy just lays there, crying.
Stacy: I don't- [sob] -I don't- [sob] -I don't und- [sob] -der stand… why would you d-d- [sob] -do th-this?
O5-6: Do what, Stacy? You're not making any sense!
Stacy: D- do- do you n- not know?
O5-6: No! We don't!
Stacy: Wh- are… are y-you from th-the p-past?
O5-6: The past?
Stacy: Wh- who- who a- are y-you?
O5-6: It's me, Stacy. It's 6. From the SCP Foundation? Remember?
Stacy: S… C… P? W- why d-did th-the SCP F-found-d-dation d-do this?
O5-6: St- Stacy? What do you mean we did this? Who did?
Stacy: L-loo-look.
Stacy points past O5-6, towards the amphitheater. Amidst the blood red lighting, a white light seems to be emanating from inside. A sound, like faint screaming, can be heard from within.
Stacy: It's b-b-been pl-pl-playing on r-repeat ev-very night since y-y-you le-eft.
O5-6 looks up the hill, at the concert hall. Dread washes across his face. He motions for MTF-062 and MTF-063 to carry Stacy again, and all together, the team walks back up the hill.
As they get closer and closer, the sounds of screaming become more and more clear. It sounds like something out of a horror film - nothing but pleading and sobbing, mixed with softer noises - wet noises. Squelching noises. Like a butcher preparing an animal.
O5-6 makes it to the top of the hill first. From the point, he can see down into the theater. In the center, past all the dead bodies adorning the chairs, a massive monitor sits in the center of the stage.
MTF-06's worst fears become realized as they begin to comprehend what they're looking at. It's camera footage, switching between various angles, as if taken by people standing in the middle of the action. As the video cuts from camera to camera, each member of MTF-06 can be seen, in full riot gear, murdering as many people as they can, as quickly as they can, while thousands of people scream and run for their lives. O5-6, too, is there, slaughtering everyone in sight, with a completely blank expression on his face as he does. The expression is shared by the rest of the team as they enact their vile deed. The video continues for almost an hour, until finally, the last of the concert attendees pleads for mercy, only to have that mercy swiftly rejected by O5-6. He stands above them, sweating, covered head to toe in blood and skin and viscera, and the massive screen goes black.
The team stands silently. A gust of quiet wind blows from an indeterminate direction.
MTF-061 falls to his knees.
MTF-065 vomits again.
The rest of the agents look too stunned to speak.
Stacy, his one eye still soaked and puffy, notices that none of the agents have their hands on their weapons. In one swift motion, he grabs the knife out of MTF-062's pocket and lunges at O5-6, screaming.
O5-6 yells in pain and rolls over, next to Stacy. Blood begins to ooze from his hand.
Stacy scampers behind O5-6 as the MTFs take hold of their rifles and aim at him. O5-6 puts his hands up, his right now missing a thumb, and shouts.
O5-6: DON'T SHOOT HIM! Don't shoot him! He…
Stacy Femcop's words from just a few days ago echo in O5-6's mind. "Retrocausality's a bitch, 6. Retrocausality's a bitch."
O5-6: Let him go.
MTF-062: Uhhh… w- really?
Stacy Femcop looks down. He has a knife in one hand and O5-6's thumb in the other. He looks up at the agents, guns all drawn, then makes confused and enraged eye contact with O5-6.
And then, he bolts, running down the hill and towards the forest as quickly as he's able, and not looking back once. The team simply watches him go until he's entirely out of view.
MTF-061 turns to O5-6.
MTF-061: What the fuck just happened???
O5-6: I- Take some pictures of the area. Document everything you see. Everything. Then burn it. All of it. I promise you all, the second we get back to base, I'll administer amnestics to all of you who want them. No one… no one should have to live with… this.
The team nods, then one by one, spreads out across the field and gets to work. After only a few minutes, a trail of inky black smog begins to fill the sky.
O5-6 looks down at his hands. They're shaking. They've never done that before. He swallows, then removes a lighter from one of his many pockets. Without even a flinch, he cauterizes his finger wound. He looks down the hill at the miles and miles of bodies laid ahead.
"Retrocausality's a bitch, 6. Retrocausality's a bitch."
O5-6 sighs, and with a heavy heart and an empty stare, he gets to work.
End of log.