Item #: SCP-796
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-796 affects only one individual at any one time, information concerning it need only be suppressed at a local level. Clinical and psychiatric records are to be screened for possible mentions of SCP-796's effects. The current affected individual is to be identified and located as soon as possible. Should an individual be confirmed to be under the effect of SCP-796, they are to be coerced into containment. The use of force, lethal or otherwise, is not permitted against individuals suspected of being affected by SCP-796.
Once the current affected individual is located, they are to be housed in a modified humanoid containment chamber lined with memory foam and equipped with microphones with a sensitivity of at least -35dB to confirm the continued presence of SCP-796. In addition, the subject must be inspected daily for any new wounds; a lack of new wounds may indicate a breach of containment. Wounds inflicted on the affected subject must be disinfected and treated promptly. Similarly, damage to the containment chamber as a result of SCP-796 must be repaired as soon as possible. Essential personnel are not to approach 100m of the containment chamber without prior authorisation, and contact with the affected subject is to be limited only to non-essential and D-Class personnel. In addition, at least one D-Class personnel is to reside in the 100m exclusion area at all times.
The death of the current affected individual is to be considered a possible containment breach. As such, their safety must be ensured at all times. In the case of their death, the residing D-Class personnel will be inspected for signs of SCP-796 and subsequently contained as necessary.
Update: As of 01/02/2005, SCP-796 is currently contained by Subject-796-17. As Subject-796-17 has not expired despite being affected by SCP-796 for more than six months, he is to be considered as a more permanent solution to containing SCP-796.
Subject-796-17 has so far requested the following:
- A selection of fiction books, preferably of the romance genre - Approved
- Portable music player - Denied
- A phone call - Denied
- Cat food - Approval pending
Update: As of 23/03/2006, the above containment procedures are now obsolete. Subject-796-17 is to be located and captured as soon as possible. See Addendum-796-03.
Description: SCP-796 is a condition whereby an affected individual begins to perceive a large feline entity in their peripheral vision. The exact appearance of said entity has so far not been ascertained; while the majority of subjects have described it as unusually large and dark-coloured, separate accounts of its shape, exact size, and overall body structure have been inconsistent. Affected subjects will often experience a strong sense of paranoia and dread, largely assumed to be a result of the entity's constant presence. However, no hostility has ever been reported on the part of the entity. Instead, SCP-796 will result in the manifestation of the following minor and largely harmless physical phenomena:
- Light scratches sporadically appearing on objects in the vicinity of the affected subject. Occasionally, the subject will appear to have been scratched by an unseen source; these wounds have so far been merely superficial.
- A faint, deep purring sound emanating from the immediate area around the affected subject. This effect is only detectable via specialised recording equipment, though most affected subjects claim it to be clearly audible.
- The appearance of paw prints in nearby soft materials, consistent with that of an unusually large cougar.
Notably, visual hallucinations experienced by affected subjects often correspond with manifestations of SCP-796's physical effects.
All affected individuals will experience an event that will place them in acute mortal danger within a month of first experiencing SCP-796's effects. It is unknown if SCP-796 is the cause of such events, or if it is aware of and attracted to individuals who will experience such events. Affected individuals' claims that SCP-796 causes bad luck are to be disregarded, as research has shown that affected individuals do not experience statistically increased rates of misfortune or accident. All individuals affected by SCP-796 will nonetheless expire within one month. Upon the death of the current subject, SCP-796 will transfer to an individual in the immediate vicinity.
SCP-796 was first documented in the town of Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, after Marina Izquierdo, a 46-year-old homeless woman, was admitted to the local hospital for severe abdominal pain, later diagnosed as due to accidental pesticide consumption. Izquierdo appeared highly paranoid and agitated throughout her stay, and died two days later after doctors were unable to save her. An autopsy revealed numerous superficial scratches on her throat and abdominal area. Dr. Hannah Maryam, who attended to Izqueirdo, later reported visual and auditory hallucinations consistent with SCP-796. She died two weeks later when her car crashed into another vehicle en route to her home. Multiple fresh scratches from an unidentified source were discovered on the steering wheels of both vehicles. At least 27 other individuals are suspected to have been affected by SCP-796 prior to Foundation intervention and containment on 09/09/2001.
Addendum-796-01: On 27/01/2004, SCP-████ was accidentally activated while being prepared for transfer to another Site. The resultant explosion severely damaged the humanoid containment wing of Site-32 and caused 31 fatalities, one of which was Subject-796-16. It is unknown as to whom SCP-796 transferred to next due to the chaos of the mass containment breach that ensued. Subject-796-17 was only identified a year later through a routine search of psychological counseling records and was subsequently brought into Foundation custody, where he claimed to have had been under the effects of SCP-796 for six months.
Addendum-796-02: Excerpt from interview conducted with Subject-796-17 on 12/03/2005 by Dr. Nico Rei, Site-32 humanoid containment psychologist. The interview was conducted as part of a routine psychological examination of human and humanoid subjects. Superfluous dialogue has been removed for brevity.
Dr. Rei: So, can you elaborate a little more on how - and when - you first noticed your condition?
Subject-796-17: It's hard to pin down a time. I wasn't in the best of states last year - my roommate moved out in April, I had to quit my job in May. Then there was that accident outside the grocery store - god, that was bad, it was just awful. And after that, it just, y'know, got hard for me to go out anymore. So I didn't.
Subject-796-17: Then I started noticing things, seeing things. At first I thought it was the shadows - my apartment doesn't get much light, you see. But turns out I was right. I would look at the dark places and I would look away and there it would be, watching me. I'd catch glimpses, ears and a tail, but that was it.
Dr. Rei: What was your reaction to all of this?
Subject-796-17: You know, I don't really think I cared. Nothing really mattered at that point. Not even when the scratches started appearing and the growling stopped being just in my head. When people stop messaging you and the world forgets you exist, it's hard to see any of this as really… real, you know?
Subject-796-17: So on a bright sunny morning in July I closed the windows and turned off the television and I popped five strips' worth of Ambien - it was hard enough, with those claws getting in the way, but I managed - and I poured a glass of water and I took it all in and I laid down and closed my eyes. And - well - it didn't make any sound, but I could still feel it watching me. It saw my eyes roll back in their sockets and my throat clench shut and it didn't do a thing. I think that's when I realised something.
Dr. Rei: What was it?
Subject-796-17: That no matter what happened, it was going to be there. Always there, in the shadows, in my ears, in my skin. Always watching. Even when I had nothing left, even when I was on my way out - you know how they say cats can see through to the other side? I think that thing just wanted to see me through.
Subject-796-17: And, for some reason, I thought that was the best thing that anyone could have done for me at that point of my life. To see me through.
Dr. Rei: Jacob, are you aware that everyone else with your condition has, so far, died?
Dr. Rei: Why do you think this is so?
Subject-796-17 glances over Dr. Rei's shoulder and smiles.
Subject-796-17: I dunno. I guess it just… kind of likes me.
Addendum-796-03: On 23/03/2006, at 0736h, the surveillance feed for SCP-796's containment chamber was disabled. Deployed security forces discovered that the chamber was manually opened from the outside using a keycard belonging to Dr. Nico Rei, which had been reported as missing two days earlier. Neither Subject-796-17 nor SCP-796 was found inside the containment chamber. Traces of claw marks were found on the keycard access panel. In addition, the following note was found folded underneath Subject-796-17's pillow.
See - thing is, you keep calling it that - a condition, an affliction, as if you can't bear to call it a disease. But it's not. Diseases hurt - they get under your skin and in your head and claw and claw at your mind until you beg for it to end. This doesn't hurt, not really. It scratches from time to time, sure, but that's it. Sometimes you give me excuses and talk about keeping me here and finding a cure for all of this, but you and I know that that's not gonna happen. It's not - and I don't mind at all, because I've already gotten better.
I'm sorry I have to leave. Four blank walls and a locked door isn't much different from what I've been used to - but there's been so much I want to do, and the cat can't stay in here forever. It's not really the indoors type.