SCP-ES-174
rating: +7+x
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SCP-ES-174's personal picture

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-ES-174-A is to remain in a B-3NJ v4 model humanoid containment cell, with access to a weekly rotating digital library.

SCP-ES-174-A is prohibited from accessing paper, and all SCP-ES-174-C instances are to be stored in a secure safe in Facility-20's Low Value Anomalous Object Wing.

SCP-ES-174-B is to be stored in a secure safe in the Medium Value Anomalous Object Wing of Facility-20.

The use of SCP-ES-174-C in long-term testing is prohibited.

Description: SCP-ES-174-A is Arsenio "Colilla" Álvarez, a former member of the Chicago Rum Runners1. Despite appearing approximately 20 years old, historical records and evidence point to activity in Cuba since at least May 12, 1925. SCP-ES-174-A is the only one capable of recharging SCP-ES-174-B.

SCP-ES-174-B is a modified 9mm pistol with a transparent handle and a sealed magazine inlet. When SCP-ES-174-A manages to carry out a successful Assault Event, an indeterminate amount of blue liquid manifests inside the handle. As long as this liquid is inside the pistol it will be capable of being fired, although the effects of shooting SCP-ES-174-A have not been determined.

SCP-ES-174-C are all forms of paper rolled up by SCP-ES-174-A. When SCP-ES-174-A fires SCP-ES-174-B at an instance of SCP-ES-174-C, the paper burns with a blue fire, and the roll is instantly filled with cellulose pulp. Subjects who have smoked SCP-ES-174-C express feeling "whole" and "a little bit happier".

An Assault Event is defined as the moment in which SCP-ES-174-A, carrying SCP-ES-174-B, threatens noe or more subjects with 'harming them if they don't deliver their happiness'. If the answer is positive, SCP-ES-174-A will fire the weapon, with mixed results (see Addendum A). Tests with high-speed cameras have shown that when the trigger is pulled, the point of the subject's body being pointed excretes a blue liquid substance that enters the pistol and then the magazine at a speed of approximately 340m/s.


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The following is a compilation of records cataloged by the SCP Foundation's Anomalous Crimes Department that are related to SCP-ES-174. Note that some of the documents have been modified to correct spelling and grammar errors, and eliminate idioms.


Case 255: Sad Eyes


Victim: Gonzalo Videla

Date: May 12, 1925

Location: Guanabacoa Causeway, Havana, Cuba

Type: Armed Robbery

Covert: Robbery with Agression

Details: He was found wandering near the 24th National Revolutionary Police station. When an officer approached him, he claimed he intended to make a complaint. Processed in accordance with current legislation, the victim claimed to have been threatened by a subject with a gun that glowed blue. The threat consisted of giving up all his happiness in exchange for continuing to live. When the victim agreed, the subject shot him in the eye.

The victim assures that, since then, he has not been able to stop crying and have great feelings of sadness and melancholy. Processed as psychological damages and normal post-theft exaggerations.

The victim committed suicide a week later. Various interviews and records mention that the victim, despite showing great happiness before the robbery at the birth of her child, constantly cried and claimed to be unable to be happy again.


Case 327: Thick Eye Bags


Victim: Elionora Cortés

Date: May 29, 1925

Location: Jefferson Avenue, Havana, Cuba

Type: Armed Robbery

Covert: Robbery with Agression

Details: The owner of a retail establishment called local police claiming that a customer had been sitting motionless outside her local for more than 9 hours in a row. When the police arrived on the scene, they were unable to get a response from the victim, but they were able to find that the victim was not blinking and that she had a bruise on her arm.

The owner, in an interview with the police, stated that the victim had come to her store euphoric with a winning lottery ticket, bought there. Shortly after explaining the procedure to follow to claim her prize, the victim left the establishment. The owner claims to have heard a loud impact sound a few minutes later, which she attributed to the hit of some material in a nearby construction.

The victim, after a few minutes of the sound, sat down outside the premises, and remained in his current state. An attempt was made to get her into the patrol, but she passed away shortly after. She later determined her cause of death as exsanguination from internal hemorrhage by yielding some of her knee ligaments. The lottery ticket was found in her pocket.

"It's a shame about Mrs. Elionora. She was a lonely woman, you know? Her children were never very attached to her and her husband was long gone. She came to my store every day for bread. The only time I saw her happy was this afternoon with the lottery. She said that she was finally going to be able to operate on her arthritis and go see her children "- María Carmen, owner of the establishment.


Case 413: Split Orange


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Fotografía Adjunta

Victim: Jorge Luis

Date: June 25, 1925

Location: 296 Street, Artemisa, Cuba

Type: Armed Robbery

Covert: Robbery with Agression and Drunkenness

Details: He was found dirty and wandering awkwardly. A member of the Dept. of Anomalous Crimes infiltrated the local police, Agent Eduardo, arrested him for allegedly drunk. The victim did not have his civil documents. The agent, during the initial alcohol test, noticed similarities to Cases 327 and 255 and decided to conduct an on-site interview.

The victim mentioned being homeless and was looking for his wife, Blue Lily2, for six days, whom he had not seen after being assaulted by an individual who, he claims, shot him in the chest.

The victim was able to provide the address of the mattress where he and his wife used to 'reside'. The victim was processed for drunkenness, and was temporarily housed in a cell at the nearest police station. Meanwhile, the agent went to the address provided, where he found the victim's wife.

When the officer reunited the victim with his wife, the woman hugged him, but the victim was unable to recognize the woman's presence and complained about 'the disagreeable joke'. Both were detained in the same cell. While the officer requested instructions to contain a possible anomaly, the victim complained of severe chest pain, and soon after fell to the ground. Subsequent analysis of him determined that he had suffered from transient apical dysfunction, and he died on the way to the hospital.

"We were all we had. He was the only reason I kept waking up every day on that disgusting mattress. He said he loved me, that I was everything to him, his only happiness. And then all this happens. I don't. I understand, and I don't want to live to understand it "- 'Blue Lily', about the death of her husband.

The full list of cases associated with SCP-ES-174 is available to all members of the Anomalous Crimes Department here.


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Although the existence of SCP-ES-174 has been known since May 12, 1925, the lack of surveillance, information, and personnel in the area due to complications from the Foundation's activities in and around Cuba prevented it from being contained until 5/27/1957, near the coast of Presqu'ile du Môle, Haiti, when the SCPS Boukman reported to Facility-20 the sighting of smoke in the middle of the sea. When Foundation personnel approached the scene, they discovered a small pedal submarine on fire and an individual on top trying to swim away. The fire was extinguished, the submarine decommissioned, and the individual, later referred to as SCP-ES-174, was sent to a temporary humanoid containment cell within SCP Boukman.

Inside the submarine were found 50 400ml bags containing a previously unknown blue liquid, 500 sheets of legal size paper, SCP-ES-174-B, a pack of cigarettes, and two lighters.

SCP-ES-174-A refused to speak during its temporary containment. SCP-ES-174 was transported to Facility-20 in Haiti, where current containment procedures were established.


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The following is the first interview with SCP-ES-174-A, conducted 2 weeks after its initial containment.

Interviewer: Researcher Hungan Deveaux

Interviewed: SCP-ES-174-A


[BEGIN LOG]


Dr. Hungan: Good morning, SCP-ES-174-A.

(SCP-ES-174-A, arms folded and sitting in its chair, stares motionlessly at Dr. Hungan)

Dr. Hungan: No answer, huh?

(SCP-ES-174-A remains silent)

Dr. Hungan: Yes. I know it shouldn't be fun for you to go through this every day (Pause) And more than once. It wouldn't be for me either.

(Pause)

Dr. Hungan: Well, as you may have noticed, I am not Delu. She has taken the day, so this time they have decided to bring me with you. And I—

(Dr. Hungan takes a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and puts it in his mouth. Soon after, he takes out a lighter from the same pocket, lights the cigar, and returns the lighter to his pocket)

(Dr. Hungan puts his feet on the table, inhales, and then exhales cigarette smoke)

Dr. Hungan: —I ain't nothing like Delu.

(Pause)

Dr. Hungan: No answer, huh? And what if I do this?

(Dr. Hungan puts a large paper bag on the table. He reaches inside and takes out a bag of blue liquid, which he then throws on the table)

Dr. Hungan: It has a very nice color.

(SCP-ES-174-A looks at the bag for two seconds, and then continues to look at Dr. Hungan)

Dr. Hungan: (Smiles) You miss them, don't ya'?

(Dr. Hungan breaks the bag with his hands and throws it to the ground. SCP-ES-174-A quickly rises from its chair and observes the blue liquid on the ground. Dr. Hungan pulls out another bag)

Dr. Hungan: I have several here. I can give you back all of them and your pretentious pistol-shaped lighter if once and for all you stop playing graveyard and start making your fucking muzzle dance, you piece of shit.

(SCP-ES-174-A nods his head)

Dr. Hungan: Well. Now I want you to sit down.

(SCP-ES-174-A takes a step forward. Dr. Hungan breaks another bag and throws it against the wall)

Dr. Hungan: I fucking said sit down!

(SCP-ES-174-A sits down quickly)

Dr. Hungan: Well well. (Exhales and inhales the smoke from his cigar). I like it that way.

SCP-ES-174-A: What do you want from me?

Dr. Hungan: Oh? He knows how to speak! And what do I want? I want to never have to see your stupid face again and go back to my damn business, but for that first I need you to answer some questions.

SCP-ES-174-A: I ain't a sni—

(Dr. Hungan grabs a bag)

SCP-ES-174-A: It's okay! It's okay! I'll talk… (Sighing). Gosh.

Dr. Hungan: Well. What were you doing in that submarine?

SCP-ES-174-A: I was fishing.

(Dr. Hungan reaches his hand to the bag)

SCP-ES-174-A: I was smuggling! Wasn't it obvious? Weren't you cops? Leave the bags alone, you old man.

Dr. Hungan: And what exactly were you smuggling?

SCP-ES-174-A: The bags. Its contents. They were for a customer.

Dr. Hungan: What kind of customer needs so many bags?

SCP-ES-174-A: What do I know, I just do the work, idio—

(Dr. Hungan reaches his hand to the bag)

SCP-ES-174-A: I was just doing a job, buddy. (In a low voice) Son of a bitch.

Dr. Hungan: And why you alone? Didn't you belong to the Chicago Rum Runners? Those people must have at least some enough money and contacts to be able to really smuggle in some boat with legal pints. (Raising his voice) Son of a bitch.

SCP-ES-174-A: It is special merchandise.

Dr. Hungan: It can be sent a hundred times and in half the time what you were trying to do on a trip three times as slow. Do you think you're going to come here to my house to cheat on me? Well no, you idiot, you're talking to Hungan, and reading your type is a child's drug to me. Who were you running from?

SCP-ES-174-A: (Pause) From the whole world.

Dr. Hungan: You're starting to understand, huh? Keep going.

SCP-ES-174-A: Things… things are not so easy in Havana, in The One Who Has Freedom. The Rum Runners have been in an uproar since The Spirit collapsed in USA. Miraculously they haven't been hard-headed enough to destroy themselves in all these years, but it seems like it's finally happening. Grudge, disputes, fights, murders. All at home and against the family. There wasn't a fucking night where I could sleep peacefully or a fucking morning where I didn't have to stand gun in hand staring at my front door. We dominated the streets, all of them, and for what? To end up turning them hostile against us again. Morons, idiots, pieces of shit. The little submarine was an award long ago given to me for years of service. One night I got tired of everything, I went out into the street, took the goods of all the morons that I ran into between my house and the coast, I put everything in the submarine and set sail. Everything was screwed up when, resting from pedaling, I dropped the lighter. Then I ran into you, though I'm not so sure anymore if you are real cops or another mafia in disguise.

Dr. Hungan: Both. Well, that explains why we found you where we found you, but…

(Dr. Hungan takes a sheaf of papers out of the bag and throws them on the table in front of SCP-ES-174-A. He inhales and exhales the smoke from his cigar)

Dr. Hungan: But they don't explain this to me.

SCP-ES-174-A: What is all this?

Dr. Hungan: The people we know you've assaulted.

(SCP-ES-174-A takes various papers and reads them for thirty-seven seconds)

SCP-ES-174-A: Fuck.

Dr. Hungan: Yes, fuck.

SCP-ES-174-A: I did not remember that there were so many, I did not know that they ended like this

Dr. Hungan: Those are just the ones that fell into my bag. I have more in my office, but I'm afraid we didn't come here to read today. I want you to tell me what you have done to these people and why.

SCP-ES-174-A: I… (Pause) For need.

Dr. Hungan: Need? Their wallets are intact.

SCP-ES-174-A: No, you old idiot. It wasn't for money. It's just that I… (Sighs) I haven't had it easy.

Dr. Hungan: How difficult?

SCP-ES-174-A: Well, I was born into a poor home, from the womb of a mother who wanted to have an abortion but did not have the means, and from a father who acted as if we did not exist. I was in the orphanage all my childhood, having to deal with the abuse of the other morons of the older children and of the fucking nuns who as Christians had nothing. By defending myself, I earned a negative record, and no family wanted to adopt me. One day, while eating lunch, a couple visited the orphanage looking for someone to adopt. They walked around the dining room seeing and saying hello to everyone. When they reached me, the man stopped for a few seconds. I turned around and stared at him. It was my father, with another woman. No word, no fucking word I heard come out of his mouth. He just looked at his wife and they kept looking at the rest. That afternoon, they adopted a child, and that night, I escaped.

Dr. Hungan: And then?

SCP-ES-174-A: I started living on my own. I was always good at stealing and getting away with it, so that's what I did. I spent my life like this until one day I ran into Chicagoans in my alley. They gave me a chance and I took it. Since then the robberies were no longer for eating or drinking, they were for a new car or a remodel in my house. I was one of their best thieves, and they my home.

SCP-ES-174-A: Over time, I climbed the ladder, until I reached the big leagues. I took a trip to the United States, to Chicago, to be in the major leagues for a while. They taught me about magic, and they taught me to hide it from the men in black. I was not the only one to get there, there were also several friends, so I still felt at home.

Dr. Hungan: If you were so happy there, why did you come back?

SCP-ES-174-A: For work, I had to return to Cuba. They put me as a goon and lookout on the ship. All good, we made landfall and they gave me a few hours to myself. I toured the old neighborhoods. I didn't miss my old life, nor those shitty days in the juvenile jail that is the orphanage, but I couldn't help but feel nostalgic walking through those neighborhoods.

SCP-ES-174-A: I could remember some of the happy times I had there as a child, like learning to ride a bike and to roll paper. My first kiss and my first pet, a rat that climbed on my shoulder and his name was Parrot. They were nice memories, until I got to my old house. I thought it would be broken and empty, but no. My father was inside, although he was no longer with that woman from the orphanage, he was with my mother, and a child, the one he had adopted. They were all putting together the Christmas tree.

SCP-ES-174-A: I remember that my mother gave the decorations to both of them, the child put the bottom ones, and my father the top ones. The boy wanted to put ornaments higher, but he was very small. My father would put it on his shoulders and help him decorate the upper area. When they finished assembling the tree, after both lifting the child to put the star on, the three of them hugged each other. I couldn't hear it, but I'm sure my father said that he loved them.

SCP-ES-174-A: I couldn't help it, and I burst into tears. My father saw me, through the window, and he did not react. Not a single reaction. No smile, no regret, surprise, or anger. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. For me there was nothing. For me there is never anything.

Dr. Hungan: It must have been hard getting back to the ship having seen that, huh?

SCP-ES-174-A: I didn't come back after that. I took my gun and shot them. Enter through the window to continue shooting at them. I grabbed my father by the collar of his shirt and hit him hard. I yelled at him, yelled at him until my vocal cords ached for him to say something to me. Only a word. One fucking word. He died with a deformed face, with an empty gaze resting on me, and in silence.

SCP-ES-174-A: He was heartbroken, and a lot of anger. See him so happy thanks to my absence. It wasn't the life I wanted for me. I did not want to live sad knowing that I was the bastard of a living father. I wanted an escape. I needed to escape. I took some books and modified my weapon. I went out into the street. I saw some children playing with the water, laughing. I pointed the gun at them and told them that if they didn't give me their happiness I would kill them. They said they would give it to me, and I shot them both.

SCP-ES-174-A: They would not die, they would only be sad for a while and I would have my happiness. I shot one of my cigars to light it, and sat on the floor waiting for whatever had to come for me. It was there that I knew that it had worked. I smoked the cigar and was happy. I left there and returned to the United States.

SCP-ES-174-A: At first it was simple. One assault, one shot, I was happy. But over time, it became harder for me to forget everything. Not only did I see myself happy, but I also began to see people who assaulted happily. See happy moments of their lives while I all I had to make me happy was the fantasy of a family that loved me. It served me to get away from the silence, but they were really happy, I wasn't.

SCP-ES-174-A: When I have not had the cigarettes, I have wanted to die more than once, but I am unable to do it on my own, and with the passage of time I stopped aging. I'm not sure why. Divine punishment, perhaps. I do not know. I've spent my life like this ever since, just living.

(Pause)

Dr. Hungan: Ah, are you done? I was falling asleep.

SCP-ES-174-A: What a motherfucker. I shouldn't have told you anything.

Dr. Hungan: (Laughs, inhales and exhales from his cigar) I understand you. Perhaps you will think, what is this senile old man saying? Yes…

(Dr. Hungan unbuttons four buttons on his shirt, revealing the tattoo on his chest of a pig skull with two crossed submachine guns underneath and the letters 'Pig-Heads'3).

Dr. Hungan: I got into a lot of trouble, and like you, I too am a smoker. I smoke because it de-stresses me, because it helps me to converse, and because the smoke helps me not to see the shit I did to people before I came here. I've done bad things too, and I've been the villain in someone else's stories. A good part of my life I felt that I just lived, I lived one day after another waiting for the day that they would finally kill me, thinking that the people around me will remember me as someone from the family and they will fight tomorrow thinking of me. It was a mistake. Those people I called my family for a long time were just people who were in as much pain as I did, or people who wanted to take advantage of our state.

Dr. Hungan: It wasn't until someone really trusted me that my life started to make some sense. And then, when I started to trust myself, it was that I changed. I left the streets and became what I really always wanted to be. Someone who in life has kept fighting to make this world better, and someone who, when dies, the world will truly regret its loss and miss his presence. Not the world as a planet, but the world that I have forged here inside. My friends, my family. The world that makes my own good memories be the smoke that allows me to forget the bad times.

(Pause)

Dr. Hungan: Anyways, I'm old now and I start to nag. (Dr. Hungan stands up, and hands the bag to SCP-ES-174-A). A deal is a deal. There are 10 blue bags in there. You have papers lying all over the table. (Dr. Hungan takes SCP-ES-174-B out of his pants pocket and leaves it on the table) And here is your lighter. You can be happy again.

(Dr. Hungan walks to the door of the interview room. He opens the door, and begins to walk through the threshold. Before closing it, he is interrupted)

SCP-ES-174-A: Doctor Hungan.

Dr. Hungan: Yes?

SCP-ES-174-A: Are you going to leave me here smoking alone? Don't you know that's rude?

Dr. Hungan: I don't smoke anomalies.

SCP-ES-174-A: No one spoke of anomalies. (SCP-ES-174-A holds up a pack of cigars while smiling)

Dr. Hungan: (He checks his pockets. They are empty) What a son of a bitch. (He smiles, and sits next to SCP-ES-174-A).


[END LOG]


Note: Given the serious breaches of the interrogation code, Dr. Hungan's status as an interviewer is being assessed, and he has been prohibited from approaching SCP-ES-174-A again.

Update 6/12/1957: Dr. Hungan has been demoted from all his duties as an interviewer, only allowing him to participate in SCP tests that do not require further social interaction.

Update 6/13/1957: Given the large increase in SCP-ES-174-A's cooperation after his interview with Dr. Hungan, the Ethics Committee has decided that both subjects may meet again every two weeks.

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