Another year passed.
Another anomaly surfaced.
Some SCPs arrive as opportunities. Others arrive as weapons. And then there are those that exist solely as liabilities—entities that offer nothing, teach nothing, and punish even the smallest mistake with catastrophic force.
SCP‑096 was one of those.
The Shy Guy.
In any later era, this anomaly would have been a nightmare. Cameras everywhere. Photography. Satellites. Digital archives. One accidental image and the body count would climb into the thousands before containment could even be attempted.
But in this era?
No phones.No cameras.No internet.
This was the only time in history where SCP‑096 could be secured cleanly.
Finding it, however, was another matter.
Using our satellite network was risky. Direct visual confirmation could trigger a containment failure instantly. So I made the necessary decision.
A single D‑Class was assigned to visual acquisition.
He knew what would happen the moment SCP‑096's face entered his field of view. He still followed orders.
The satellite feed was routed to him alone.
He located SCP‑096 in a remote, mountainous region—isolated, motionless, hunched in the snow.
And then he screamed.
Confirmation was immediate.
SCP‑096 had been triggered.
I was already en route.
The D‑Class was secured in a reinforced containment cell the moment I arrived on-site. His fate was sealed, but containment protocols demanded precision, not mercy.
From that point onward, absolute visual discipline was enforced.
Every person on-site wore blindfolds. No exceptions.No direct observation.No reflections.No cameras.
When SCP‑096 arrived, its movements were tracked exclusively through motion detectors and weight sensors. Security cameras were physically destroyed—shot out the moment the entity was confirmed inside the containment chamber.
Once secured, we went a step further.
A reinforced bag was placed over SCP‑096's head.
No accidental eye contact.
No mistakes.
No second chances.
The facility went silent.
Only motion alerts confirmed it was still there.
SCP‑096 offered us nothing.
Its flesh could not be harvested safely.Its biology yielded no usable technology.Its abilities could not be replicated, controlled, or weaponized without unacceptable risk.
It was not an asset.
It was not a tool.
It was simply something that had to be locked away forever.
And in that sense, this era was perfect.
No photographs of its face exist outside Foundation control.
No paintings.
No records.
Just a single D‑Class whose book in SCP‑4001 would soon end.
SCP‑096 was contained without a single civilian casualty.
A flawless operation.
Still, as I reviewed the final report, one thought lingered in my mind:
Some anomalies aren't dangerous because of what they do.
They're dangerous because the universe itself refuses to let people look away.
And SCP‑096 was proof of that.