SCP-XXXX

An external view of SCP-XXXX’s main structure, obtained by MTF Epsilon-9.

Item #: SCP–XXXX

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: Owing to the location and nature of SCP-XXXX, constant physical containment has been deemed impractical. Containment procedures should therefore centre on the suppression of public knowledge pertaining to the existence, location and nature of SCP-XXXX and the doctoring of satellite and telescopic images of the structure.

The interior of the anomaly should be patrolled on a bi-monthly basis by MTF Epsilon-9, accessed from the nearby Lunar-Area 32 using Foundation lunar-surface vehicular technology. Any changes to the interior of the structure or the status of SCP-XXXX-1 should be noted and investigated immediately.

The interior of the anomaly should be patrolled at all times by no fewer than three members of an expanded MTF Episilon-9, with additional MTF reinforcement available from the nearby Lunar Area-32. SCP-XXXX’s main structure currently contains a sizeable assembly of advanced, experimental or otherwise anomalous surveillance equipment, for the purpose of detecting and preventing any further interaction between the Chaos Insurgency and SCP-XXXX-1. Any changes to the interior of the structure or the status of SCP-XXXX-1 should be reported to Area-32 command immediately.

Description: SCP-XXXX is an exact replica of Las Vegas’ “The Mint” Hotel and Casino located on the lunar surface, approximately seven kilometres from Oceanus Procellarum : (“Ocean of Storms"). Of note is the significant amount of fire damage sustained by the hotel section of the complex. Based on physical evidence collected from within the structure, it is probable the duplication of SCP-XXXX occurred at some point within the month of December, 1966, although no notable suspicious or anomalous activity was reported by the hotel’s inhabitants during this period.

Internally, the structure maintains an atmosphere identical to that of Earth, a constant temperature of 21 degrees Celsius and generates or receives water and electricity from an unknown source. However, the interior remains the only area fit for human habitation, as normal lunar conditions resume beyond the outer limits of the structure.

Within the foyer of the hotel section of SCP-XXXX lays the remnants of a device of unknown origin, designated SCP-XXXX-1. SCP-XXXX-1 is badly damaged, with the outer casing fused to the structure of SCP-XXXX, and possesses a control panel that has been rendered inoperable.

The object emits large volumes of gamma radiation into the surrounding areas of the hotel, originally documented as reaching levels up to 442 times the limit for safe human exposure even with protection, although this has since dropped to an average of 310 times the safe limit in recent years. Still, SCP-XXXX-1 renders an area approximately fifty metres in radius directly surrounding itself immediately inhospitable to human life. Long-range analysis of the object, however, has revealed internal technology currently beyond the capabilities of the Foundation, suggesting the object itself is anomalous in nature and directly related to the appearance of SCP-XXXX. This hypothesis was later proven true by interrogation XXXX-1A, confirming that SCP-XXXX-1 forms the basis of the Chaos Insurgency’s continued interest in the anomaly.

Discovery: A potential lunar anomaly was first brought to the Foundation’s attention during the immediate aftermath of NASA’s Apollo-12 mission, when Foundation assets embedded within the agency discovered reports of “lunar lights” from Apollo 12’s crew. Further research conducted by the Foundation was later able to verify these claims, with the source being identified as a large, unknown object in close proximity to the Apollo-12 mission site. Despite this knowledge, owing to the limitations of the Foundation’s astronomic capabilities at the time, the duplicated structure was not fully explored and did not receive SCP-classification until██/██/76, an estimated ten years following its appearance.

Upon Foundation discovery, the remains of some 189 inhabitants of the hotel were found throughout the complex in various states of decay, suggesting the anomalous event that led to the duplication of “The Mint” similarly affected any guests present within the structure at the exact moment of duplication. However, this number falls far short of the average number of inhabitants within the hotel and casino at any given time in 1966, suggesting that a significant number of these visitors were either spared the effects of the duplication or have not yet been discovered in or around SCP-XXXX.

+ Addendum XXXX-1A - Close Addendum XXXX-1A Addendum XXXX-1A: The following are excerpts from a journal recovered from the office of Harrison Garcia within SCP-XXXX: casino floor manager for “The Mint” between 1965 and 1976, likely detailing the events within SCP-XXXX leading up to and directly following the duplication event. The original Harrison Garcia died of natural causes in 2004. 12/06/66: As expected, things have been picking up around here along with the holiday season. Good for the casino and hopefully good for Team Garcia too. More gamblers equal more opportunity! At the rate the numbers are growing, my team and I may be hard pressed to keep things running smoothly, but still, duty calls. We’ll make it work and I’ll make this worthwhile. 12/10/66: I finally have my extra security on the cards, hopefully they’ll work wonders on the festive raucous kicking in! I’m always grateful for extra muscle around this time of year, even if they are a little rough around the edges. Secure doors being left unlocked. Excessive force. Grown men confused about the building layout. Typical stuff. They may not be the smartest bunch, but I’ll whip them into shape. At least I’ll try. 12/15/66: Huge swell of people into the hotel today. I have business to attend to so you’ll have to forgive a short entry for tonight. At least when you finally get around to reading this. Security still wandering around like headless chickens but I have a hunch we’ll all need to step up big tonight. 12/16/66: This isn’t right. None of this is right. Things have taken a turn for the worst around here, and I’m not talking about profit margins. Don’t ask how it happened. Don’t ask who the hell was responsible. I’m shaking just writing this because no one knows where we are, what the hell is going on or how we’re going to get out of this. One minute it’s business as usual, the next what feels like an earthquake starts shaking the casino. Whatever it was, I wasn’t there to see it. But there’s nothing out there now, nothing at all recognisable, and the staff I sent out to investigate still haven’t come back. I have hundreds of terrified patrons banging at my door and we’ve yet to establish anything resembling order amongst them. God help us. Give me strength Coraline. 12/17/66: Somehow we’ve managed to get a grip on the situation, however bleak the circumstances. We’ve assembled all the survivors we could find in the casino, since the hotel is no man’s land now. One of our dealers, poor lad, learnt that the hard way when he tried to get out through the foyer.



The silver lining is that somehow the lights and water still work, so there’s that, and we’ve had security handing out food from the cafeteria to those that’ll take it. Definitely feels lonelier around here though. We still haven’t taken a count of those left, but it’s starting to look like a sizeable few just didn’t make it. As for the survivors, a fragile peace has taken hold, but I’m worried about how long it’ll last and terrified about the long run. At least I can confide that in here, because out there they sure as hell can’t afford to see me break down. I need to stay strong. For their sakes and mine. 12/20/66: The past couple of hours have been a nightmare. The fire started before anyone knew what was happening, and that was when we noticed it. Some ruined piece of debris had ignited a fireball that damn near consumed the lobby and us with it. It was a miracle we managed to get it under control, let alone stop it, but in the end the sprinklers and our bravest managed to come through. I just hope there aren’t any more surprises headed our way, because our hopes and resources are stretched far enough as it is. But at least now there’s a little more to go around per head. 12/25/66: Christmas today. Even though I knew I’d be spending it without you, somehow our predicament only makes the feeling worse. I can only hope your fortunes are better. 12/29/66: More trouble in Paradise. To say we should’ve rationed our food supplies better is an understatement, since we let a lot of good stuff go to waste in the chaos following the start of this ordeal. We took a count. There are two hundred and seventeen of us stuck here. I doubt we have enough to last us a fortnight. What should I do? What can I do?



I wish you were here. 01/01/67: The hungry are turning violent. There’s practically a mob forming in the Poker Hall and they seem intent on claiming the scraps we have left one way or another. The patrons. The security. The dealers. Me. We all want answers. We all want solutions. The difference is that I’m expected to deliver. Not to mention that we’re still no closer to figuring out what on earth started this mess. The phones are useless. We can’t get a radio signal. We’re cut off. Yet still, fixing this mess is my duty. Why else am I here, separate from you? No matter the odds, I have to try. 01/05/67: I’ve tasked the few workers who’ll still obey with keeping those who have kept order safe, but the rest have all turned on us by now. My hands are tied. The Assistant Floor Manager has a dozen or so survivors holed up in the smoking room, convinced that escape is their only option. They’re close to jumping ship. Maybe they already have. Duty continues to call, but I’m finding it difficult to answer. I’m spending more and more time holed up in this office alone. Out there, violence is becoming more and more common, so it seems like a smart enough move for now. But the hunger is only getting worse. 01/06/67: I’m writing this to try and dull the nagging pain in my stomach, and keep some spark of hope going in the darkness outside. More and more are abandoning the casino in favour of whatever lies out there, but I don’t blame them. Whatever’s in the lobby is changing the people still here. I can see them when I dare to glance beyond my door: glazed, mindless faces. Peeling skin. Bloodshot eyes. I haven’t eaten in days, and even though I hate to admit it, this is starting to look more and more like the end. Coraline, you seem so impossibly far away. 01/10/67: My hunger continues to grow, but some have found a solution to theirs. Dozens missing. Dozens dead. But I suppose I should’ve expected this. They came here to gamble, and gamble they will. To eat or be eaten, all down to a roll of the dice. I can only refuse, keep my dignity for whatever it’s worth. For now I’m still safe in my office, but what happens when they need new suckers for their little game? 01/12/67: It appears my time is up. They’re at my door now, and in a few short moments they’ll be upon me, so I’m writing now for anyone who’ll listen. Anyone who stumbles across this record and wants to know what happened here. Know that I tried. Tried to hold things together. Tried to do my duty. Tried for the people that matter most. It was only the promise of a better future that brought me here, and even if I can never share that with those I love, I can share this message of regret with you. Tell Coraline I’m sorry.

+ Addendum XXXX-1B - Close Addendum XXXX-1B Addendum XXXX-1B: On 01/02/1986, during a routine bi-monthly patrol of SCP-XXXX by MTF Epsilon-9, motion trackers picked up the signatures of no fewer than seven armed and mobile individuals within the casino section of the complex. Epsilon-9 was authorised to engage, with the resulting firefight ending in the deaths of three members of Epsilon-9 and all but one of the enemy hostiles, who was apprehended and taken into Foundation custody. The following is a transcript of the subsequent interrogation conducted by Simon Rayl, leader of MTF Epsilon-9, following the subject’s extraction back to Lunar-Area 32. Rayl: Subject is awakening. Beginning interrogation recording.



Subject beings to adjust to his surroundings, appearing groggy and disorientated in appearance. Rayl: Can you hear me? Subject pauses, at first refusing to answer, before calmly uttering an expletive towards Rayl. Rayl: Perfect. Now I’m going to ask you a few questions. Questions that if you’re smart, you’ll answer truthfully. Subject appears to smile mockingly, before slowly nodding. Rayl: Your uniform. There aren’t any markings, flags, symbols or logos to speak of. So let’s begin with who the hell you’re – well, were – working for. A squad of mercenaries in a secure, off-planet, anomalous zone? Not exactly an easy to reach destination. Subject pauses once more. Subject: Your friends up there… how many did I kill? Half? More? All cowar- Subject is abruptly cut off by Rayl slamming the stock of his rifle into his back. Rayl: Let’s keep this about you. The interrogation continues unsuccessfully for approximately another six minutes, before Rayl is interrupted by the entrance of fellow Epsilon-9 member Judith Rhodes into the debriefing chamber. Rayl: And that’s all the time I needed… Rhodes: We’re in luck. Site Director [REDACTED] authorised the use of psychoactive-E. I’ve brought the dose with me now. Let’s see him hide now. I’ll hold him still. Rhodes hands a hypodermic syringe of psychoactive-E to Rayl, and then moves to secure the subject, who is handcuffed to a bench on the opposite side of the chamber. Rayl then immediately administers psychoactive-E to the subject, who demonstrates significant resistance to the injection. Rayl: Now tell me, who the hell are you working for? Subject continues to struggle for another twelve seconds, before apparently succumbing to the effects of psychoactive-E. From this point, quality of the subject’s responses begins to progressively degrade, in line with the expected side-effects of the psychoactive. Subject: Only one thing of value in that entire sideshow. The object you try to… protect… belongs to my employers. Recover it by any means… deliver it back to its… rightful… owners.



Rayl: Who are? Speak up. Subject appears to struggle against the effects of psychoactive-E for some time more beforespeaking up. Subject continues to tremble violently throughout the remainder of the interrogation. Subject: The… Insurgency, who else? Can you remember? Remember what that object is capable of? It’s… [REDACTED]. Once wasted on… the Foundation. Taken into more capable hands. Rayl: So you were recovering the object for some kind of future use? Or misuse knowing the devastation that goes on in your neck of the woods? Subject: Wouldn’t… be… the first time. Casino is up there… for a reason. All about power, power for us…. Power to…use. [REDACTED] backfired… rumour’s all I know. Rayl slams his fists onto a nearby table in frustration. Rayl: I don’t believe for a second that’s all you know. Speak up now! Or do you need more encouragement? Subject begins to thrash violently, a common symptom of early psychoactive drugs developed by the Foundation . Subject: I… I… I know… At this point, subject suddenly lurches sideways in an extremely violent manner, breaking free from Rhodes’ grip and slamming his head into a steel support beam affixed to the bench to which he was restrained. Subject knocked unconscious and escorted to holding cell 14F when he did not awake within thirty minutes of the incident. Approximately four hours following this incident, all vital signs of the subject ceased, later determined to have been caused by sudden cardiac arrest. It is the belief of site command that the subject was remotely terminated by as of yet unknown means. Notes: From information ascertained from Epsilon-9’s brief interview with the captured subject, it is currently hypothesised that SCP-XXXX-1 is in fact [REDACTED], an anomalous item originally stolen from Foundation custody during The Chaos Insurgency’s original defection from the Foundation. Given the extreme power of [REDACTED] and the possible consequences should it fall back into the hands of the Insurgency, the defence of SCP-XXXX-1 should be considered an alpha priority. Special containment procedures revised. All further known information regarding [REDACTED] moved to Secure Document Equinox-86, clearance level 4.