A group of three Class D Personnel approach
the locked containment chamber. One of them is carrying a bucket and mop,
but all three of them look jumpy and hesitant to move forward. An SCP Foundation guard walking behind them
gives one of them a push forward with the barrel of his gun and they continue stepping
towards the cell door. All three of them nervously stare at the heavy,
locked metal door. Behind it, the sound of stone scraping against
metal can be heard coming from inside. A second guard standing next to the door asks
the three if they are ready. They don’t answer and the guard starts to
laugh. They never are. The guard loudly announces that “special
containment procedures are beginning now! You know the rules. Two maintain eye contact at all times while
the other cleans. If you have to blink, do it one eye at a time. And announce before you close even one eye
so everyone knows.” The guard turns and starts to enter a code
into the keypad next to the door. Each of the D Classes take a couple hard,
last blinks, taking the last opportunity they have to shut both of their eyes at the same
time before they begin. With a loud hiss the sealed chamber door unseals. “Alright, eyes up!” the guard commands. The door opens to reveal a small, dimly lit
chamber. There are no furnishings, and much of the
metal floor and walls are covered in a reddish brown substance. And there in the corner, is what they’ve
heard stories and rumors about. The thing that has given them nightmares ever
since they learned that they would have to enter its containment chamber… SCP-173. Or as most of the staff in the SCP Foundation
call it… The Sculpture. It looks so unassuming in person. Just a crude, concrete figure with a stupid
looking spray painted face, standing motionless in the corner. The three D classes get another push from
the guard behind them and they enter the chamber. The two assigned to watch SCP-173 assume their
position in the middle of the room, their eyes locked on the Sculpture as the other
starts cleaning the foul substance off the floor and walls. It smells terrible, like a mix of old blood
and human waste. The two assigned to watch 173 pay no attention
to the one cleaning though. They follow protocol to a tee, maintaining
their vigil and announcing each time they are going to blink, even if it is only one
eye. The third one continues cleaning, trying his
best to keep his own eyes locked on the sculpture as he attempts to mop around it without getting
too close. D-5933 does his job and doesn’t break eye
contact with SCP-173. Even though it hasn’t moved, he can feel
the presence of the Sculpture, something within it, just waiting for him to slip up, to let
his eyes avert for just one split second. They say that’s all it takes. You stop looking for even an instant and it’s
all over. With all of the fear coursing through his
veins it is hard to maintain focus. All he can think about is how dry his eyes
feel, and blinking them one at a time never seems to be enough. He wants so badly to shut his eyes, to end
their itchy, dry feeling, but he can’t. Even with another watcher it’s too risky. There’s suddenly a loud crack but D-5933
doesn’t move his eyes away from 173. He can see in his periphery that the other
D Class dropped his broom and instinctively looked down at it. Luckily for him, there were others watching. D-5933 shifts in place, taking a step back
and bumps into something. He can’t look at what it is, but he reaches
behind him and feels that it’s the other D Class watcher. But wait a minute, why is he facing the other
way? “What are you doing, what’s going on?”
he asks, his eyes never leaving SCP-173. “What are you talking about?” the other
D Class asks back. “You’re facing the wrong way.” “I’m facing the wrong way? You’re facing the wrong way!” “We’re supposed to be watching 173! What are you looking at?” “I AM looking at 173. What are you looking at?!” D-5933 doesn’t know what’s going on and
starts to panic. The one cleaning is focused on his task, trying
as hard as he can to quickly mop up an especially dirty corner of the cell. “Ah ah ah…” It’s the worst sound D-5933 could have heard. “Ah-choo!” A sneeze. Just inches behind his head. Followed by the sound of bones being cracked,
a scream that was cut off too short, and then a sick, thud as a body dropped to the floor. D-5933 doesn’t even have a chance to scream
before a pair of concrete hands grab his neck, and his own head is twisted around to see
another identical looking sculpture staring back at him. “Ladies and gentlemen of the O5 council,
we have a problem.” A senior researcher is giving a presentation
to a group who remain largely in the shadows, obscuring both their identities as well as
their reactions to this horrendous news. “SCP-173, through means which we have not
yet been able to determine… has multiplied.” There’s no reaction from any of the thirteen
figures seated around the large, curved table. The researcher in charge of SCP-173 waits
for a response, anything at all, but after receiving none he clears his throat and continues. “We gave each of the new instances their
own designation, SCP-173-1 and SCP-173-2. Two of the D-Class on observation duty during
the regular cleaning of 173’s cell were killed, the third was able to keep them both
in his line of sight until they could be re-contained and moved into separate cells.” Again, no reaction from the shadows. “But as you know… this wasn’t the end
of it. At some point, the instances of SCP-173 multiplied
again. Each splitting to form yet another instance. SCP-173-1 through 4 are all contained separately,
but we don’t know if or when another split will occur.” The senior researcher waits, but no one on
the O5 council speaks or moves, until the one seated in the very middle, slides a piece
of paper across the table in front of him. The senior researcher looks confused, he looks
to the Mobile Task Force guard stationed near the door, but he too remains expressionless,
eyes locked straight ahead. The researcher, unsure of what else to do,
steps away from the lectern and walks towards the table. He picks up the piece of paper and reads it: OBJECT CLASS - UPGRADE FROM EUCLID TO KETER
ORDERS - CONTINUE OBSERVATION The senior researcher nods in agreement, thanks
the O5 Council for their time, and leaves the room. Lights flash and siren blare in the halls
of Site-19. It’s a containment breach. Facility staff, researchers, and site guards
all run down the hall screaming, trying desperately to get away. There’s no hope for any of them though. In a flash, SCP-173 instances appear behind
them, snapping their necks and dropping them to the floor before moving on to their next
victim. There must be dozens of them. Even as a guard tries to keep their eyes on
one instance, preventing it from moving, another appears behind them. The staff of Site-19 flee for their lives,
screaming for someone, anyone, to help them. The senior researcher presses pause on the
video, the terrified face of the senior researcher who gave the last presentation is frozen on
the screen. An instance of SCP-173 is directly behind
them, its hands wrapped around his neck in the split second before his life was snuffed
out. The new researcher giving the presentation
looks considerably more frazzled than his predecessor. He explains to the O5 council that following
this horrific containment breach at Site-19, at least 61 instances of SCP-173 are now unaccounted
for. It is still unknown how they are replicating,
but worryingly there is evidence that the process may be speeding up. He presses play on a new clip from the security
footage which shows what appears to be multiple instances of 173 working in tandem, some using
their bodies to block exits, others creating choke points in the facility corridors. “We have theorized that SCP-173, as we are
now referring to the collective instances, may possess a form of hive intelligence. It also appears that this intelligence scales
with the number of instances that are nearby. This allowed them to implement tactics that
thwarted our containment efforts, as they used instances to block our containment teams
from being able to pursue others.” “What you have in front of you is a proposal
for Revised Special Containment Procedures.” “What I recommend may sound drastic, but
it’s what I truly believe is the only way to contain this threat.” Each of the O5 Council Members picks up the
folder in front of them, bringing it into the shadows that obscure them. “What I propose is that SCP-173 instances
no longer be kept in containment cells, but instead placed inside of form-fitting metal
containers. We can then use SCP-120 to transport the instances
to the Foundation site on the lunar surface. The facility will have to be abandoned of
course, it’s too risky to maintain a presence there, but each of the instances will be fitted
with a tracking collar to ensure that we will be able to detect if any of them are somehow
able to escape.” The senior researcher waits. After a time, a paper is once again slid across
the table. He approaches and picks it up, he sees that
it is the same folder containing his Revised Special Containment Procedures proposal. He opens it to find that it has been stamped
“APPROVED”. “BREAKING NEWS” flashes across the screen. A worried looking reporter appears as though
she didn’t have time to do her hair or makeup before rushing on air to deliver this special
report. She explains that civilian deaths across North
America are now estimated to be more than 500,000 people in the last 48 hours, as these
still unidentified creatures continue their deadly rampage across the continent. It is unknown how many of them there may be,
but the number of sightings has led some to estimate that there may be hundreds if not
thousands or even tens of thousands of these living, neck snapping sculptures. The reporter explains that rumors are circulating
that the creature can be stopped by maintaining eye contact with it, but that this has yet
to be confirmed. There is still no official word from the White
House or from any members of Congress, and their current location and status are unknown
following reports that most of Washington D.C. was overrun by the creatures earlier
that day. The reporter suddenly stops speaking and a
terrified look comes over her face, her eyes locked on something just off screen. The camera pans over to show an instance of
SCP-173 standing over a dead cameraman. There’s a scream, and the camera goes back
to the reporter who now lies dead on her desk, her head twisted 180 degrees, before there’s
another sound of bones breaking and the feed goes dead. A woman in an SCP researcher coat sits at
a computer terminal in a secure bunker, a large, jeweled medallion around her neck,
typing furiously, as if there isn’t much time. “Personal Log of Dr. Bright. From the little news I’ve been able to gather,
it sounds like SCP-173 has besieged and destroyed four Foundation facilities pretty much simultaneously
in the last 24 hours. Each instance shows the same strength as the
original, and thousands of them working together are capable of ripping open concrete bunkers
and compromising foot-thick steel doors. I alone have been killed thirty-seven times
in the last week. They can smell me, somehow, regardless of
what body I'm in. The majority decision of the remaining O5s
is that this is an XK class end of the world scenario unfolding, and they're gonna deal
with the problem, or else the Russians are. They're evacuating this base, which means
there won't be a single Foundation scientist anywhere in the New World. They say they're gonna try to evacuate the
surviving civilians, but I doubt it. There can't be more than a couple hundred
people in all of North America anyway. I managed to make it down to a secure bunker
but who knows how long it will be until they’re able to get in. I don’t think there’s any chance I can
get out either. I’m running out of food, and I’m not sure
which will get me first, hunger, the sculptures, or what I know the O5’s will inevitably
do.” Dr. Bright closes the computer terminal and
sits back in her chair. She looks up at the ceiling of the bunker
where the sound of concrete scratching against metal can be heard through the thick walls. A sullen and tired looking researcher steps
out of a room in the makeshift foundation site that has been established just outside
of Amsterdam in the Netherlands. He’s holding a piece of paper and closes
the door behind him which has had “O5 Council - Authorized Entry Only” hastily painted
on the outside. A small group of Foundation staff are waiting
for him, they’ve gathered to hear what the Overseers have decided to do in the face of
this world ending disaster. The researcher looks around at his colleagues'
faces, and as they make eye contact, any hope they had is quickly replaced by the bad news
they know is coming. He begins to read: “Revised Special Containment Procedures Containment Zone X1, formerly North and South
America, is to be denied access. Following saturation nuclear bombing the number
of SCP-173 instances has been reduced. All available Foundation resources are to
be redirected to monitoring the ocean, to ensure the integrity of Containment Zone X1. Foundation Adjuncts from national navies are
to perform around the clock patrols and sonar sweeps. Detected instances are to be contained and
removed to SCP-120 for transport to the lunar containment site.” “That’s it?” one of the staff members
asks. “That’s it,” the researcher replies. Several of those present begin to cry. There’s nothing more they can do. Their homes, their friends, their families,
all of them are gone. Killed either by the neck wrenching sculptures
or in the heat of a nuclear blast. “Why, why did they have to do it?” one
of the other staff who appears to be a former site guard asks. “That's all we could do!” another argues. There’s much disagreement in the small crowd. No matter how they feel though, this was the
official order from the O5 Council, their word is law. Especially in a world where all law and order
outside of the Foundation has broken down. There really was no other option. All they can do now is hope that the sacrifice
of two whole continents was enough to keep it contained. That SCP-173 is unable to cross the ocean
to Europe, and that they remain safe on this side of the planet. The group grows quiet, mourning the loss of
the world they once knew, when the silence is suddenly interrupted by someone running
down the hall. It’s another researcher carrying his own
piece of paper. He tries to push past the group towards the
O5 Council’s door, insisting that they let him through, that he has important news that
can’t wait. “What is it?” demands the group, “we
deserve to know!” The group wrestles the paper away from the
junior researcher and it is passed through the group to the same man who read the Revised
Special Containment Procedures. He quickly reads the report, it’s just a
couple of lines, and his face goes white. “What is it, what does it say?” comes
a question from the crowd. “Message from the North Atlantic Navy General
Command. Verified sighting of SCP-173 in the United
Kingdom. Nuclear bombardment authorized and executed. No survivors.” SCP-173 has come for them. I hope you enjoyed this special exploration
of the SCP Foundation Tale SCP-173 Revised Entry. If you liked this, then be sure to watch The
First SCP SCP-001 The Prototype. Let me know in the comments if you’d like
to see more like this and make sure you subscribe and turn on notifications, so you don’t
miss a single anomaly, as we delve further and further into the SCP Foundation’s classified
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