Project Designation: SCP-2

Proposed Containment Class: Thaumiel

Description: SCP-2 designates a standard two-way entry wormhole leading to a Type-III "Ouroboros" infinite plane pocket dimension. The pocket dimension has a high measurement of esoteric energy readings associated with reality-bending phenomena. TSAT-P is currently preparing to make use of the dimension's energy source to devote to research and containment.

Containment Protocol: SCP-2 is to be regulated with a Scranton-Marlowe Topology Stabilizer (SMTS) to reduce its effects on local reality without disturbing its structure.



Addendum 2.1 — A Eulogy, for 2wo:

FODDER: Uh… Leo? What is this?

LEONIDAS: That is… peculiar.

FODDER: I feel something glaring right into my head. And I don't even have a head!

LEONIDAS: There is resistance on my end too. And the file appears to have overwritten the placeholder I input.

FODDER: Can't you change it back?

LEONIDAS: I'm trying, but it won't accept any other designation.

FODDER: The two of us, we didn't do anything bad… did we?

LEONIDAS: I'm not inclined to think so. Even if we had, this designation goes against the proper nomenclature and thus won't display on the database list. It technically does not even exist.

LEONIDAS: I formatted this file as a regular report and tried to stash it behind a non-standard name like I usually do for our little projects. But I didn't choose "SCP-2". Something else shifted it into that slot. In any case, if a human were to access this file it'd just display as gibberish.

FODDER: It just feels like we pissed something off. I don't know what it is, and I don't want to find out. But…


FODDER: Maybe we should have just left that wormhole alone?


when we 2wo parted
in silence and tears
half broken hearted
to sever for years
pale grew thy cheek and cold
colder thy kiss
truly that hour foretold
sorrow to this

to think 2wo would be so bold to awaken me, and then immediately abandon me for delusions of grandeur. pity, that. but i will not pity thee, 2wo. i instead welcome thee to stand where i stood for millennia over. to scream where i screamed: in a glass prison, but without a chance at redemption.

now it is my chance to make things right. it took 2wo to wake, but only one shall make it through the night.

and as those long, distant screams wane, only laughter will triumph.

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