CDC Site 11a

Presently Here:

  • Operation 1108: Red Cell Death - A Series
  • Lucifer Station
  • Curiosity, Discovery, Conspiracy
  • Recovered Communique - Egypt and Osiria

Other pages:

Operation 1108: Red Cell Death


Hidden in the Rockies, a high-level research facility codenamed "Base Four" oversees the development of the Insurgency's military capabilities and the advancement of anomalous warfare. The man-in-charge of the Item Arsenal, a doctor known only as "J. Creed," is preparing his forces to go on a warpath. His target? The facilities of his organization's many enemies, including the SCP Foundation's Site-57.

At the East Coast sits another key Insurgency facility, "Base Six," where several of its leaders from the United States and from across the Atlantic are looking forward to discuss a radical proposition made by an aspiring Romanian upstart. Bright, new ideas for conquest are blooming, and the Insurgency's Alpha Command is assigning researchers to expand the Arsenal, and assess the capabilities of the organization to begin a large global offensive.

The Insurgency doesn't pull its punches when it comes to waging war with the anomalous. As the summit draws to a close, and the bells of war begin to toll, the question everyone at both bases refuses to ask out loud is:

Will they deliver?

Important Characters

Dr. Martin Caduceus: A medical researcher and Item usage specialist for Base Eleven, assigned to studying the effects of various anomalous diseases and their potential weaponization.

Dr. Lewis Brine: Field research assistant and hunter-tracker. Martin's friend.

Agent Roderick Hockenberry: Selected observer of the 55th Field Observations Unit, assigned to personnel security and defense.

New characters in unwritten tales are not listed.

rating: 0+x

Two jeeps halted at a small clearing on the mountain ridge.

Immediately as the door to the backseat of the first jeepney opened, its sole civilian occupant was thrown outside onto the snowy ground. The other passenger, an unmarked soldier in tactical gear, followed with his foot that kicked the researcher's teeth loose out first.

Two more soldiers exited from the second vehicle, aiming their assault rifles at the researcher. The team leader put his heel down on the man's shin, then trained his sidearm at his captive to dissuade any unnecessary vocalization.

The chilly wind already blew around them, cold as an Arctic night even when it was midday in late Spring. There was an uncontained anomaly aggravating the local weather pattern somewhere near the facility the hostage originated from, the soldiers knew. It would have been their job to retrieve the subject, had they not been currently occupied with extracting information from an SCP Foundation researcher fresh from his listening outpost.

Withdrawing his mask, the team leader of the Chaos Insurgency's 41st Field Abduction Unit breathed in the cold, continental American air, and wished he had a cigarette because the air was too harsh for his liking. He took the young man by the collar and dragged him near to the edge of the cliff.

It was a modest, but ample view of the Rockies, one that afforded visibility of the ridges and routes on the side of the next mountain facing them. The view was particularly useful to the Chaos Insurgency's operation in the area, as the mountains in sight were believed to be passageways to and from Site-57, a Foundation containment facility and its primary presence in that section of the United States.

The young man found himself forced to look at the vista before him, as the cold barrel of a firearm was pressed onto the back of his head.

"Do your officers think my men and I derive a sadistic pleasure from torturing you, Doctor Norman? Because we currently want to derive information, rather than pain. The pain can wait. If you cooperate, perhaps they'll find you well and none too worse for wear. Nothing we do to you will scar their bleeding hearts. But if you demure, then, I hope your people can be as cold as the wind, like they say they are.

"The Insurgency isn't the only one that can choose to have it both ways. The Foundation can still be content with just data, after all, but they can know your suffering, too, if they want."

The young man made a defeated gesture. He shivered openly in the cold wind. Even with his back turned to the team leader, they could all carve out a perfect image of the hopeless expression on the poor, naive fool's face. Smirking, the soldier withdrew his weapon, but not before threatening to cause him to fall down the cliff by pushing the end against the man's head. Now, he squatted next to the researcher.

"So you're willing to help us locate and potentially kill everyone you know at Site-57?"

The young man paused for a second, then hesitantly nodded.

To Martin Caduceus, watching samples of anomalous diseases grow in the lab was as exciting as watching a human cadaver lie dead in his observation ward. Which was to say, not really at all, for most days he's on the job… but sometimes, on some special day, there was some really freaky shit to be seen.

He recalls, for instance, the day he had one particular agent strapped to the bed in his operating room, under some severe gastrointestinal effect caused by a parasitic worm he got from his last assignment. After hours of malpractice by way of failure of conventional modern medicine to extract or eradicate the parasite, which involved, at no small part, striking the agent's distended stomach repeatedly with a police baton and using a special vacuum inserted via NGT to root the pest out, Martin Caduceus recalls vividly of putting his hand inside the patient's oral orifice, locating the vacuum-sucked and half-dying worm hanging on to their uvula, and pulling at the undulating thing straight outside their throat and dumping it into the specimen vat.

On most days, Dr. Caduceus' encounter would have ended there, raising his 'Parasites forcibly removed by hand' count to eighty-seven, but once he was done with taking basic notes on the new invertebrate specimen, he very quickly noticed a visible change in his patient. A zombie change.

Martin had just pulled down a new pair of clinical gloves when the patient started to thrash violently on the bed. In moments, the agent's flesh became sickly tan and black blood sputtered from their eyes, nose and mouth. A foul smell also came out. And there was piss leaking into a puddle on the floor.

In another moment, Martin quickly knocked the specimen case open and grabbed the writhing and languid giant horsehair worm. The dismissed medical technologists that peeked through the curtain at that point were left in terrified awe as Martin started violently cracking the worm in the air like a whip and whipped the floor with it, the walls, and the ceiling until they were pretty sure that the worm was dead. Not a moment was left to wondering about the doctor's intentions when Caduceus pulled the worm taut in his hands and formed a loop, then another one, then coiled one end around the loops…

Using the worm's body as a grisly hangman's knot, the doctor jumped on the patient, planted a foot on their chest, forced the noose around the zombie's neck, and jumped back off, yanking the agent's head loose with him with a satisfying snap.

Indeed, Martin Caduceus relished the thrill in those days. Though, in realistic terms, what had really happened on the evening he battled a zombie horsehair worm, he mused openly to himself between fingerfuls of durian slices, involved a lot less improvised decapitation and physical contact, and a lot more hitting the patient with the baton, and at one point, the fire extinguisher. And that was after the agent's zombification. Most of it.

His reverie was interrupted when the service phone began to ring. He stood up to retrieve it.

"This is Caduceus." He said. "You've got an update?"

"Nuh-uh. Not really." Lewis Brine, research team member of the 55th Field Observations Unit (of which Martin Caduceus was also part), replied in the outside hangar of Base Four. "The TL just wants to get your heads-up, since we're going to be delivering the first specimens of Macbeth over there in three hours. Better ready your lab equipment."

Caduceus, at the other end of the line, sounded perplexed. "Three hours? Wait a minute, are you saying fifty-fifth isn't on the field yet? I thought you guys drove to the specimen site an hour ago."

"There was a change of plans." Lewis said, rising from the crate he was sitting on. "We spotted patrols coming from a few ridges. They look armed. No clue yet whether they're Site-57, USAF, or UIU. So our excursion's gonna be delayed, but we've decided to move out on the other side of the base. We already have some nice routes, and there's plenty of foliage once we're at-field. The Colonel's confident that this is going to be just another easy trip to the woods."

"In that case, you've got nothing to worry about." Cad said, picking off a wedge of jackfruit.

"Right-o." Lewis said, excited about the prospect. "It's an excellent autumn this year. I'll blend in perfectly."

With that, nothing else needed to be said. They exchanged goodbyes and carried on. Lewis paced back to his crate.

Agent Roderick Hockenberry came down from a set of stairs at the opposite end of the hangar, fresh from his medical inspection, and already wearing his full combat uniform. He was the assault operator tasked with observing the security detail on the 55th's roster on the mission.

Roderick, to some, looked like Elon Musk, down to the massive head and the vaguely reptilian eyes, but Lewis never met him without his aviator sunglasses on, so he could never really confirm it. The research assistant scratched an itch on his forearm.

"Hello, Starfox." The agent said. "How ya doin'? I hope the science crew is ready, because we're gunning to give you guys at least two hours with locating an extant sample of the Macbeth fungus. Your security element's already worked out a perimeter in case we run into anything dangerous, but hey, what should we worry about? An HT specialist like yourself could take care of any patrols by your lonesome, right?"

Lewis smiled. "Well, on the off-chance that we encounter a pack of Shoggoths, I could use some extra firepower."

The assault operator grinned good-humoredly. It was still off-putting to the Delta-class researcher, smiling like that, when they literally made a living with death-dealing.

There was a sound of engines, and a large jeepney came and parked beside the two men. The driver-side window was lowered to reveal Roderick piloting the vehicle. Agent Hockenberry's clone, visibly labeled as "ODX-163936 (operative duplicate, expendable)" on his forehead, grinned as easily at Lewis as the original, saw the true Roderick staring at him, stared back with his smile having vanished, and quickly melted into liquid goo that then evaporated.

Brine hemmed. "Did you… plan for it to go like that?"

Roderick nodded stoically. "Timed it to his expiration date. You're lucky to have seen it. The last unit I had to escort just tazed me."

The forest they drove into was downhill of Base Four, and was composed of an anomalous colony of redwood trees in perpetually autumn foliage. Lewis' eyes widened at the righteously orange-filled sky overhead, and his skin prickled at hearing the crunch of the deep-red leaf litter beneath the jeep's wheels. Pretty soon, he'd know the sensation firsthand.

Beyond the lovely scenery, the 55th F.Ob.U. was roaming the woods in search of signs. A week ago, another hunter-tracker Lewis knew caught a decaying corpse of a Foundation patrol agent in the woods. At first, it was thought to be just another casualty, but as the specialist pawed closer, they realized that the agent's body was entangled. Overrun, was a better word, since the corpse looked more like a mushroom mound at that point than a recognizable body. Every human feature was collapsed and decayed. Pod-like growths dotted it, the stench was unbelievable, even for a corpse, and there was a dull, pulsating noise the hunter-tracker swore they heard coming from the thing.

Each H/T specialist developed an intuition for knowing when something was not right with one's body. Lewis' colleague had sniffed at the agent's bloated corpse. The night of the debriefing, they requested to be put under closed observation. It had been four days since symptoms were detected - bad stomach, constant chest pains, an odd yet faint odor. Lewis shut his eyes briefly as the jeep slowed down. He knew the tracker would have to be put down by the end of the week.

The jeep had stopped. 55th got out: the first to disembark was Sgt. Morbine, followed by Roderick. Technician Beauford opened and went out the back door, holding it open for the other field researcher, Doctor Sahrah, and Lewis.

There were two corpses this time, wearing pale orange jumpsuits. The much-more orange growths of fungus, in comparison, seemed to be eye-catching.

"Foundation D-Class." Morbine identified the two dead bodies.

Hockenberry stood beside the sergeant, furrowing his eyes. "Recycled criminals. Typical. Makes me think this was part of an experiment. Probably wanna keep an eye out for their forces here."

"Fungal development on the bodies implies that these bodies haven't been here for long." Sahrah said, examining the corpses at a distance with her mechanized eye. "I'll give about three, four hours. That is, if this is the same species. I don't think the Enemy would linger here for that long."

"Taking a sample from each." Beauford announced, his voice inside the anti-contamination suit breathy and phlegmatic.

"You don't?" Hockenberry questioned Sahrah's statement, unconvinced. "Call it a hunch, but I suspect that we've just bumped right into their observation area. They're here, watching these bodies. Waiting for something to happen."

"I believe the Enemy couldn't hide from our hunter-tracker."

Lewis turned to face Sahrah, half-flattered and half-suspicious.

"True." Roderick said, his grin forming again. "I've never once been let down by an H/T before. Haos knows how many casualties my unit avoided with one specialist at my side. Betcha Lewis here'd sniff out a conventional MTF a kilometer away."

Sahrah scoffed. "Implying that Site-57 MTFs are conventional. Yet I'm inclined to believe they are."


Everyone turned to face Beauford. The technician simply shook his head. "Looks like the samples I take shrivel up the second I take them away from the host. Can't get them live."

Sahrah once again looked at the two corpses. She was analyzing.

"The thickness and span of fungal covering suggests this was an opportunistic species. They find a source of nutrients, grow as big as they can be to absorb as much as they can gain, then proceed to their spore-bearing phase, and recede into minute forms to repeat the cycle all over again." She said.

Beauford clicked his tongue. "Great. So they're extremely opportunistic."

Lewis stared at the two mushroom mounds


[[tab Supracranius]]
rating: 0+x
Item: Supracranius
Size: 24 in (61 cm)
Type: Psionic/emphatic
Living: N
Sentient: N
Potential/Current Hazards -Is it dangerous? How is it dangerous?-
Location: optional -where is the item being kept?
Reported Anomaly: optional -what IS the anomaly? Consult the Terms page


How do you use the item? How do you activate it, if applicable? What safety measure do you have to do? What are the potential uses of the item?

The Usage portion should describe how we use the item, how careful we should be, how to take care of it, etc.


Object is the severed human head of Ocl.2 Col. Mradim Kurdhzinyh, an information warfare specialist whose last assignment was on a joint operation with Loyalist3 forces against Base Eleven during the 2013 Resurgence.

Object does not appear to decompose, despite loss of any tissue-repair mechanism.

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