A Divine Associate; Fallen
rating: 0+x


Item #: SCP-XXXX l4.png Object Class: Euclid
Level 4 Clearance Threat Level: Yellow


Fig 1.1: Oldest known image of SCP-X (photograph recovered from the estate of Peter Stratford).

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-X is to be kept within a standard humanoid cell. SCP-X is to be discouraged from engaging in acts of self-harm1. As a preventative measure, staff must perform weekly psychiatric and physiological screenings. The results from these screenings are used to condition SCP-X operantly by allowing (or forbidding) amenities such as toys, scented candles, and dry shampoo.

The following may be provided while SCP-X is supervised (and must be retrieved after use):

  • One sewing needle
  • One scalpel (approved by acting HMCL supervisor, for maintenance and repair only)
  • One mirror2
  • A D-Class personnel amenable to visual and physical contact with SCP-X.

Twice per day, SCP-X may be provided with a fresh animal carcass prepared in strict accordance with shechita (the Judaic practice of ritual animal slaughter). Personnel may provide SCP-X with whatever tools it requires to incinerate this offering in accordance with korban olah (the Judaic practice of burnt sacrifice). SCP-X is permitted to extract small portions of each carcass for personal use. Should SCP-X remove the carcass's skin, personnel may have it tanned and returned to SCP-X.

Description: SCP-X is a humanoid entity that has replaced its epidermis, teeth, genitals, the majority of its extremities, and facial bones with crude transplants of leather, hair, muscle, and bone. When provided with appropriate tools, SCP-X is capable of using similar materials to modify, maintain or replace these transplantations. It prefers to only graft materials that are derived from the carcasses of animals slaughtered in accordance with shechita; it resists receiving any other material and will refuse to graft tissue from them to its body.

Examination of SCP-X's underlying scar tissue, body proportionality, and historical reports suggest that SCP-X has made extensive surgical alterations to itself. This includes removal and/or modification of appendages and organs not consistent with ordinary Homo sapiens. Attempts to reconstruct SCP-X's original appearance have failed due to the sheer quantity of modifications to its form.

Over the course of several hundred interviews, SCP-X has demonstrated a child-like deference and deep emotional attachment to any human it encounters (regardless of overall conduct to it). It frequently shows disgust with itself and is reluctant to describe its past prior to Foundation acquisition. Upon realisation of the procedures regarding SCP-X's self-harm, it has used this knowledge to prevent periods of extended isolation.

Addendum X.1: Recovery and Containment

SCP-X was discovered in 1985 during a raid conducted in Romandy, Switzerland at the estate of Basil Ottinger (a banker and collector of anomalous art). Upon entering Mr. Ottinger's basement, Foundation agents found SCP-XXXX in a catatonic state at the bottom of a pit filled with animal excrement and raw sewage. Despite not understanding verbal commands, it was highly deferential toward Foundation personnel and cooperated with its containment.

As part of an arrangement made with the Foundation, Basil Ottinger was offered amnesty in exchange for information regarding the anomalies recovered from his estate and the location of other anomalous collections.


DATE: 15/02/1985
INTERVIEWER: Commander Robert Malthus
SUBJECT: Basil Ottinger

<Begin Log>

MALTHUS: The thing in the pit.


MALTHUS: Tell me about it.

OTTINGER: Just, can we talk about something else?

MALTHUS: That isn't how this works, Mr. Ottinger.

OTTINGER: OK, so — It isn't as bad as it looks, right? I know how it must look, it looks like I —

MALTHUS: Just tell me what it is.

OTTINGER: Alright. Look. Just, look. The Mülhausen collection. You know it? Of course not. Well, you should. It was an amazing collection. Contained some remarkable pieces. Even had an original print of a Nkurunziza. Do you know how hard it is to —

MALTHUS: Mr. Ottinger.

OTTINGER: Okay. Right. It was up for purchase about, ah, I think it was in '73? His dullard of a son was selling the whole lot for some fast cash. Probably to pay his bookie, something like that. This idiot, he — this idiot had no idea what he was sitting on. I wrote him a check right then and there. Wrote it so fast that I nearly ripped my checkbook in half. Cost me less than a Cheval Blanc 47. Absolutely amazing, gorgeous pieces.

MALTHUS: And what about the thing in the pit?


MALTHUS: Was the thing in the pit one of these pieces?

OTTINGER: Yes. It was a package deal, yeah? Part of the collection. Mülhausen kept it in a crate in his attic. Sound-proofed. It was locked up inside there, chained up in the dark, and it was — anyway, uh, it's an interesting piece. Very interesting. You don't even need to feed it. Did you know that? Um, anyway, it came with instructions. I keep them in a safe deposit box. I'll have to have someone go fetch them for you.

MALTHUS: Instructions?

OTTINGER: Yes. Mülhausen had left explicit instructions for what was to be done with it. His letter explained that he wasn't the one who came up with these instructions, either. He received them when he purchased it from a Catholic bishop. He made that very clear, that he didn't like doing this. This wasn't his idea. We were just following instructions —

MALTHUS: What were they?

OTTINGER: Look, you learn real quick in this business that when a work of art comes with instructions, you don't question them. Yeah? If you do, bad things happen. And it doesn't — you can do whatever you want to it. Once you're done, once it's stopped, uh, screaming, it won't even care. No matter what you do to it, it forgives you. It just wants to be closer to you.

MALTHUS: What were the instructions?


MALTHUS: Mr. Ottinger —

OTTINGER: Hate it. Throw it in a hole and make it scream.

<End Log>

Addendum X.2: Letter to Peter Stratford

In 2007, Foundation personnel were made aware of a letter discovered in the home of Peter Stratford, the seventh Earl of Aldborough (part of the Peerage of Great Britain, the Earl of Aldborough went extinct with Peter Stratford's death in 1889).

Your Excellency,

My hand trembles in recollection of the events I must now relay to you. Captain Elias' exploration of the cave has yielded the discovery of a beast unlike any other. The creature took the Captain's life, for no trace of him was found in the cave when our men ran to his aid. They mistook the creature's wailing for Elias'.

The stench that greeted me in the bowels of that accursed cave was unlike any I have ever experienced. It reeked of necrotic flesh, recently sloughed but long dead. There, in a large cavern, I saw the miserable thing cowering, staring into a large body of water. It did not resist during my examination; to the contrary, it welcomed my touch.

It has stitched fur and leather to itself through some craft unknown to me. Its teeth are false, and its fingers made of animal bone. It has no tongue, and its eyes are made of glass (yet still it sees). I distinctly recall the creature had appendages spiralling from its torso, but my men tell me they are nought but stumps now. They tell me that it had chewed and clawed them off, no doubt in an attempt to more closely resemble us.

My prior scepticism is all but abolished. I am certain of it: this creature is Nephilim.3 It walked the earth in the time of Enoch and Methuselah. Somehow, the flood that purged the earth of its filth spared this pitiable wretch. It survived God's wrath.

Now, like a lame dog shot and left for dead by its Master, it limps home and pleads to be forgiven — only to behold a new hound at its Master's feet. Desperate to win back His favour, it strives to emulate that which has taken its place. For above all else, it yearns to feel Master's love.

It cannot be forgiven; it is not man, nor is it natural. If we accept it as our own, it may replace us as the favoured child of God. I have secured it downstairs. I hear it wailing in the darkness below.

There is room at our Lord's feet for only one beloved son.

- William Drexler