First identified instance of SCP-2680-1, photo taken shortly before death
Special Containment Procedures
One instance of SCP-2680 is currently contained at Site-75. It is to be stored within a standard Biological Anomaly Storage Cube within a standard Biological Storage Cell. One instance of SCP-2680-1 is contained at Site-75 within a Biological Storage Cell that has been modified for human habitation. Once per eight hours, three D-Class Capsule Rations are to be delivered through the Rations Transference Device.
No alcoholic beverage of any kind is to be consumed, stored, or otherwise allowed within five kilometers of Site-75. No glass bottles of any kind are allowed within five kilometers of Site-75. If glass bottles are seen within the exclusion zone of Site-75, they must immediately be incinerated by crew following Bio-safety Level 4 Procedures. If personnel displaying symptoms of inebriation are observed, physical contact should not be made, and they must immediately be reported to Site Security.
Mobile Task Forces Kappa-3 ("Teetotalers"), Beta-7 ("Maz Hatters"), and Lambda-12 ("Pest Control") have been deployed to investigate and curb SCP-2680 infections in the wild. Research is underway to develop a vaccine or preventative for SCP-2680.
All Foundation personnel are encouraged to avoid consuming alcoholic beverages any kind of packaged beverage that they have not physically extracted from packaging such as a cardboard box or six pack ring.
Description
SCP-2680 is an anomalous viral disease that resembles smallpox, possessing similar symptoms such as the formation of irregular pustules, inflamed spots, lassitude, and delirium, though there are three key differences: One, that no known cure for SCP-2680 exists, with all attempts at inoculation resulting in contraction of the anomalous malady. Two, that the irregular pustules form not only on the patients' extremities and outer body, but also on the internal cavities such as the liver and intestines. Three, that the pustules are swelled with a green mixture not merely of turgid pus, but also alcohol otherwise fit for human consumption. Contact with this fluid is the primary method by which SCP-2680 spreads from man to man; while it is theorized that the infectious agent may also be spread though air, a mere one third of all those observed to have been contaminated have contracted the malady while the remainder are afflicted with ordinary pox.
Rather than slowly leaking, SCP-2680 pustules continually swell up with fluid till bursting, thus spraying the immediate area with a fluid discharge up to a three-meter radius; to facilitate this process, patients have been observed to compulsively bite at the sores until they burst, consuming some of the resulting discharge as a form of reward. Despite lacking any will to halt their own self-cannibalism, those indisposed report performing these acts of their own volition, and universally describe these actions as a soothing way of coping with the disease.
While the fatality rate of SCP-2680 infection is greater than 90 percent, those infected by SCP-2680 only die after at least thirty-to-fifty days, while ordinary smallpox victims usually die after ten-to-sixteen days. Death is caused by the rapid and immediate bursting of all pustules and sores inside and outside the body, causing the body to rupture explosively.
First Contact
This document was transcribed from the post-encounter commentary of Eustace Bagge (Captain of I-3) two weeks after his team confirmed the existence of SCP-2680.
Of course we heard the rumors; smallpox that could not be inoculated against, that caused beer to spill from every orifice, that caused men to split open and burst like overfilled balloons. We were the Foundation; we'd heard rumors just like that for years, rumors of bubonic plague that caused men to turn into walking ghouls, of cholera that made men dissolve into the water leaking out of them. And of course we investigated, and of course for every twenty rumors we did so, we found perhaps one anomaly. And so, just like the cholera, or the bubonic plague, we assumed that this was merely the fear-mongering of a few backwater farmers.
We were prepared for anomalies of course: we were inoculated; we wore our Hurd masks; we wore our one-piece Mackintoshes and hoods, these thick, stifling coats that were just as likely to suffocate you as protect you; we were armed to the teeth. And so we encountered the damnable plague in the middle of July, in a backwater farm village in the middle of Missouri. It was near the middle of the day when we arrived, exhausted, hungry, hunched over from the weight of our packs and sweating like pigs. The middle of the day and the damn village was deserted, a ramshackle mess of cottages and sheds with nary a man in sight. We slammed on the inn's door for fifteen minutes before someone opened it.
It took us an hour to explain why we were there and another hour for him to believe us. Where was the town doctor, we asked? Dead. Popped like a booze-filled balloon, the innkeeper claimed. Where was his body? Burned, naturally. Who else was sick? A girl, quarantined in the clinic. Her family had fled. Surely there were others, we asked? They went up in smoke like their houses.
We entered the clinic - what was left of it, it was a hollow gutted shell, burned to the ground. The basement, the trapdoor was locked. We had to kick it open. Inside… Bones everywhere, scorched beyond belief. The air was thick with putrefaction and liquor. Row after row of beds, blown to smithereens. There were still bodies - these bloated, rotting, gutted husks that were popped like balloons. Horrible. The girl…. the girl was in the far corner of the room. Nobody had attended to her for days. They had left her to fester in her own filth! She was riddled with sores, pustules, and rashes. And she was gnawing at them! Pus, alcohol, and blood squirting out of her and she lapped it up like a dog. We got near her - we were careful not to touch her wounds - and tried to talk to her. Interrogate her. And the whole time we did, she kept eating herself alive. We would pull her hands away and within minutes this wretched creature would nibble the pustules off her shoulder. She just would not - could not explain what had happened to her, how she had fallen ill, what had happened to those other damned souls, or her family, where they had gone. Of course this was our greatest fear - where had her family gone? Were they infected? If the plain pox could spread like wildfire…
We had been trying to wring something, anything useful out of the child for three hours before she died. She tried to speak and then swelled up. I immediately ordered my men to pull back out of the house. I looked back as we ran, and I saw the fear in her eyes… and then there was a sound like a dozen Gatlings and the room exploded. When we had recovered from the blast, what was left of the room was splattered in blood, pus, and alcohol. We bagged what was left of the body, burned down the house, and left.
Two weeks later Campbell collapsed. We never did figure out how he got infected - probably a tear in the Mack - but there was no mistaking what had happened. Thank God we were already under probationary quarantine. He was thrown into his own quarantine then, and through it we could see him eating himself alive. Two weeks after that he exploded.
Nota Bene 18/02/1891: At this time, it is estimated that as much as thirty percent of all smallpox victims are currently infected with SCP-2680, forcing Overwatch to declare a state of emergency regarding this event and mandate that euthanatization of SCP-2680-1 instances be considered the primary method of containment.
Nota Bene 16/06/1896: Testing of the secretions of [REDACTED], combined with minute portions of lead and hydrargyrum, mixed with alcohol, has proven efficacious in eliminating and preventing SCP-2680 infection in 99% of all test subjects. Efforts to scale up production of the substance are underway.
Item #: SCP-2680
Object Class: Keter
Containment Protocols:
One liter of SCP-2680 is currently contained at Site-75, stored inside a glass bottle in a Biological Containment Cell, that is not to be touched by hand and should only be handled by D-Class personnel in protective clothing. All employees at Site-75 are strictly prohibited from consuming alcoholic beverages, likewise no alcoholic beverages whatsoever are allowed within Site-75, with punishment ranging from formal reprimand to immediate termination out of concern of contamination. Proposals to test with SCP-2680 must be evaluated by the Committee for B Hazards.
All Foundation personnel are encouraged to abstain from alcohol consumption and join local temperance movements such as the Anti-Saloon League, several of which are currently receiving discreet funding from Foundation front companies; while it is rumored that the United States government will officially outlaw alcohol, such an action is considered extremely unlikely especially as a result of the Great War, leaving the matter in the hands of the population and therefore the Foundation.
At this time, Proposal L109 "Wrath of God" has been selected to combat SCP-2680, to this end, Overwatch has mandated assets across the continental United States to prepare for mass quarantine, disinfection, and sterilization campaigns, with all Foundation weapons research and development assets directed to accelerate the production of prototype 'thermobaric weaponry' and air-dispersed amnestic compounds.
Nota Bene 16/01/1919
Being that the production, distribution, and sale of commercial alcohol across the United States have been effectively banned by the successful passage and ratification of the Eighteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, thus inadvertently curtailing the spread of SCP-2680, Proposal L109 has been cancelled, with the aim of directing all otherwise-engaged Foundation resources to develop a remedy for SCP-2680.
Containment efforts are to concentrate on the total eradication of SCP-2680 within any remaining pockets of resistance, such as criminal organizations that have stockpiled alcohol. Commercial alcohol-producing companies, criminal organizations, bootlegging groups and speakeasies are to be supplied with information and equipment to produce Agent Salk and brew beverages unaffected by SCP-2680, while Foundation assets in the United States government are directed to take all possible actions to hinder communication, centralization, and transparency between federal and state authorities to encourage the spread of unaffected beverages.
A moratorium has been placed on all operations against the Chicago Spirit, such that all of their activities within the continental United States remain wholly unmolested; Foundation assets within the United States must make all possible efforts to assist the Chicago Spirit in all possible manners, such as avoiding law enforcement, unless Foundation assets and personnel elsewhere may be compromised or harmed as a result of their activities. Joint Team I-3 ("Rum Runners"), composed of members of former Investigative Team K-3 and the Chicago Spirit, has been formed to encourage the spread of information and supplies, including Agent Salk, for safe brewing within the anomalous community, and locate and euthanize any remaining instances of SCP-2680-1 (according to Protocol I-17).
Description: SCP-2680 is an anomalous form of ethyl alcohol that when imbibed, causes the development of an anomalous form of smallpox, with similar symptoms such as the formation of irregular pustules, inflamed spots, lassitude, and delirium, though there are three key differences: One, the disease's causative agent is a form of alcohol rather than anomalous variant of Variolae; Two, though near-identical to smallpox, the disease is not fatal on its own and wholly survivable by otherwise healthy individuals; Three, the composition of the pustules is a mixture of SCP-2680, pus, and trace amounts of lead and hydrargyrum.
In addition to developing symptoms of smallpox, victims of SCP-2680 (hereby designated SCP-2680-1) develop a chronic urge to pick at and eat their own skin, storing it within their digestive tracts until a period of three-to-six weeks has elapsed, following which the instance will defecate a mass of dead skin that has taken on the shape and texture of a glass bottle. Following expulsion of the cancerous mass, the instance will hold it to their sores and pinch and burst their own pustules to fill the mass up with fluid, concurrently resulting in the gradual recession of the symptoms of SCP-2680 in the victim; it is vital to note that this does not in fact cure the disease, the symptoms of which presently resurge after a period of twenty-four hours. SCP-2680-1 instances are able to recognize the anomaly, but refuse to combat the urge, citing either the brief respite from the malady or a delusion that eventually they will be cured by the process, to the point that several instances, under the belief that the SCP-2680 mixture stored within the mass cured their illness, have sought to expose as many people to the fluid as possible.
Update 08/10/1918: An instance of SCP-2680-1 working at a distillery in ███████, Minnesota contaminated the plant with SCP-2680, spreading the disease to the neighboring towns. In total, 453 instances had to be euthanized and much of the county was subjected to flame-based countermeasures (publicly disseminated as a wildfire). Efforts are ongoing to minimize potential repeats of this incident elsewhere in the United States.
Update 15/06/1919: Testing of [REDACTED], combined with silica and mixed with alcohol, has proven efficacious in eliminating and preventing SCP-2680 infection in 99% of all test subjects. Efforts to scale up production of the substance are underway.
Activities of the Chicago Spirit
During the time this testimony was produced, the Foundation and Chicago Spirit were collaborating to halt the spread of SCP-2680. This testimony was recorded in 1926, and belongs to Roland MacDell, a former consigliere in the Chicago Spirit, who oversaw bootlegging operations within the Northwest United States.
Let me get one thing right clear - I don't deal with 'normal' brewing. You wanna hear about that, you find someone else. My job's to make sure all the… funnies out here are using our stuff.
The easy part's handing out the hooch. Cops won't do squat to stop us, and if some dick tries, well, you an' the boss take care of 'em. All we hafta do is make sure our speakeasies brewed with the stuff you bulls were handing out. We bring the booze, we bring the brewing kit, they take it. They sell it, they brew it, people buy it. I ain't actually saying it's sunshine and roses though… thanks to you lot.
Word got around fast that we were working with the fuckin' cops. When we first, ah, partnered with your enterprise, it took us weeks to even get our own boys on board, forget about all the speakeasies. 'Till twenty-two, actually what we hadda do was bring in a buncha drink from Canada and lace it, real quiet-like, with your stuff. Whaddya call it, Agent Sock? We had a whole operation going on. Labels from the Krauts, bottles from the Brits… and the, uh, piece de resistance was the brand name. Gordon's Gin. Best dry gin on God's green earth. 'Course you can't actually find any real Gordon's in the whole damn USA. At least… not from the normal guys. But we ain't the normal guys. We got truckloads of Gordon's, laced it with your sock, and sent it off. Nobody else was gonna get these folks Gordon's, so it was either deal with the juice or no Gordon's. Course, it helped that the folks drinking Gordon's were the only ones not turning into booze-filled blisters. So once everyone realized that yeah, your funny juice was helping them not get beerpoxed, we didn't need to worry about Gordon's. All we had to worry about was the competition.
We're the biggest… semi-ethical associates… in the States, but not the only ones, yanno. We got all sorts tryna come in and get a piece of that rum cake, you know what I'm saying. Snakes, leadheads, all those magic bimbos. The hell you do to 'em anyways? They're real stuck on bumping you lot off. Wasn't till we buddied up with ya that they got real testy 'bout us. Actin' real tough, tryna threaten us and run us out of town with their fancy tricks and lightshows. I tell you though, magic don't mean squat when you're staring down the barrel of a Thompson. You knows Portlands, yea, we had one of our biggest joints this side o' the Mississippi. Last winter we got raided by the leadheads. Folks are handin' out dog hairs and havin' a grand old time and suddenly the door gets blown right off the fuckin' hinges. Buncha leadheads stormed in - they'd turned their fuckin' arms into gats.
Lost twelve of our guys that night. I dunno if the leadheads had some beef or were just torpedoes but that didn't matter for shit. They'd tried to fuck us over. We couldn't just bump em… we hadda send a message. So what we did was roll right back on them. Boss was there personally. We knew where the bastards were holed up and all we had to do was knock. And we knocked all right. We stormed in there, introduced the goons on the first floor to our choppers, and went right knocking on the big cheese's door. Bastard was sitting Indian style on the floor, and the boss just smashed this barrel over his head. Somehow boss got his hands on a barrel fulla some kinda acid. Hy-dro-flow-summat. The leadhead melted like a stick a' butter. Boss made bar trophies outta what was left.
Bar trophies. Goons with guns for arms. Magic oozing out of people's goddamn assholes. That's how the game works, you dig? Every day we get scumbags trying to muscle in on our turf and trying to turn us into rabbits or whatever the fuck else. We deal with them, and we provide a public service to the people. That's real Chicago Spirit.
Look, I ain't just gonna tell you 'bout everything we did. I'm no sap - we both know that once this shit is done, you lot are going to try and bull in on us. Probably half the guns you gave us'll blow up like Kraut mines. Just remember the leadheads next time you come knocking. The Spirit's the biggest outfit this side of the Atlantic. Whatever the fuck you try to pull, we can pull right back.
Item #: SCP-2680
Object Class: Euclid Keter
Special Containment Procedures: One instance of SCP-2680 is currently contained at Site-75. It is to be stored within a standard Biological Anomaly Storage Cube within a standard Biological Storage Cell. One instance of SCP-2680-1 is contained at Site-75 within a Biological Storage Cell that has been modified for human habitation. Once per eight hours, three D-Class Capsule Rations are to be delivered through the Rations Transference Device.
No alcoholic beverage of any kind is to be consumed, stored, or otherwise allowed within five kilometers of Site-75. No glass bottles of any kind are allowed within five kilometers of Site-75. If glass bottles are seen within the exclusion zone of Site-75, they must immediately be incinerated by crew following Bio-safety Level 4 Procedures. If personnel displaying symptoms of inebriation are observed, physical contact should not be made, and they must immediately be reported to Site Security.
Mobile Task Forces Kappa-3 ("Teetotalers"), Beta-7 ("Maz Hatters"), and Lambda-12 ("Pest Control") have been deployed to investigate and curb SCP-2680 infections in the wild. Research is underway to develop a vaccine or preventative for SCP-2680.
All Foundation personnel are encouraged to avoid consuming alcoholic beverages any kind of packaged beverage that they have not physically extracted from packaging such as a cardboard box or six pack ring.
Description: SCP-2680 is an unidentified species of macrovirus, tentatively placed in the order Retroviridae, that resembles bottles of various types of alcoholic beverages, most commonly Bud Light and Coors Light beer. The "bottle" and "bottlecap" are composed of silica and anomalous forms of keratin that mimic the properties of soda-lime glass, labeled paper, and metal crown cork bottle caps. The liquid inside the bottle mimics the physical properties of alcohol (dependent on the brand mimicked), but is actually a solution composed of water, stem cells, xylitol, proteins, and RNA.
When the liquid is consumed by a human, it causes intoxicating effects analogous to consuming a similar amount of alcohol. The liquid then instigates a series of physiological changes in the human body, catalyzing the dissolution and widening of the esophageal tract and converting excess esophageal tissue into specialized glands that produce SCP-2680 fluid.
Infected persons (designated SCP-2680-1) develop dermatillomania, dermatophagia, and rumination syndrome. Over a period of three-to-six weeks, infected persons gradually consume the skin around their digits, limbs, and torso.
Once six weeks have passed, instances of SCP-2680-1 will regurgitate the consumed dermal tissue as the 'bottle', 'label' and 'bottlecap' of SCP-2680, before regurgitating SCP-2680 fluid into the 'bottle'. Instances of SCP-2680-1 are able to produce up to six instances of SCP-2680 at a time. Once the last bottle has been regurgitated, the cycle of consumption and regurgitation will restart. During the final process of regurgitation, SCP-2680-1 instances experience anterograde amnesia, with the result that they believe the produced instances of SCP-2680 to be store-bought alcohol.
Instances of SCP-2680-1 do not appear to be under any anomalous compulsion to perform these actions, and can be conditioned and trained to stop. However, most instances resist treatment and prefer to keep their disease secret.
Addendum 2680-1
On ██/██/██, a Protestant community was discovered in ████████, ████ to be completely infested by SCP-2680. Among the infected were children approximately █ and ██ years old, producing SCP-2680 in the form of Coca-Cola and Fanta-brand glass bottles of soda. In light of this revelation, SCP-2680 has been classified as Keter. Mobile Task Force Kappa-3 have updated their investigation protocols accordingly, and Mobile Task Forces Beta-7 ("Maz Hatters") and Lambda-12 ("Pest Control") have been assigned to aid Kappa-3.
