Every Garden Gnome Explodes Differently | SCP-5556

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What the hell was that noise? Commander Broken whispers. Do you hear that? Uh, it's Watsaw, sir. Bludge responds quietly. Watsaw? What about Watsaw? He's crying, sir. So is Jive. Jesus doing jumping jacks. Crying? It's been a stressful day, sir. Bludge eases himself up out of his crouch and glances out the cabin's window. The sight makes him shiver as he lowers back down, shaking his head. Are they still out there? Commander Broken asks the man. Yes, sir. Still out there. What are they doing? Playing some sort of game, sir. Something with sticks and rocks. We can hear ya. And it's called Scrappypap, ya numscole. A small voice shouts from the clearing outside the cabin. You can play if you like. Just come on out of that there cabin and we'll get your own stick. It's a trap, sir. Jive says from across the cabin. He sniffles and snorts, wiping his nose on his uniform sleeve. We go out there and one of them will blow. They'll just blow us all up. Blow us to kingdom. The slap comes hard and fast, silencing Jive instantly. All eyes turn to Nino. Nino's eyes are on Jive as he stands over the man. You done? Nino snarls at the panicked MTF operator. Jive nods, wiping his nose again. Nino's glare turns on Watsaw. How about you, princess? You done blubbering? Nino snaps. Hey now, Nino. Don't overstip. Commander Broken says. Or what, sir? You'll make us all hide in a goddamn cabin because four foot tall little punk-ass bitches are outside playing games with freaking sticks and rocks. It's called Scrappypap. The small voice from outside shouts. Commander Broken tries to match Nino's glare, but no one can match Nino's glare. The commander finally looks away. Alright, Nino. If you're so damn smart, how about you go outside and have a chat with them? See if maybe they'll come along voluntarily. Our mission is to bag and tag these instances ASAP. We can't leave until we've accomplished that. Ain't no bagging and tagging gonna happen here. A different small voice yells. Listen to your ma! Another adds. A chorus of small voices erupts into laughter. You know what, commander? I think I will go out there. Nino turns away from his teammates. He wipes the seat of his pants, checks his sidearm, and steps past the others to the front door. Catch you on the flip side. The members of Mobile Task Force Delta 9, known as the Gingerbread Men, all watch him leave. Then they look at each other, wide-eyed, just before they jump up and hurry to the windows to see the scene unfold. The operators are hardened professionals, but the day took its toll. They all cringe at the sight outside the cabin. There are four gnomes playing that game with sticks and rocks, the source of the small voices. But there are also a dozen blast craters, each ranging in size from a couple of feet wide to a few meters wide. Strewin' about most of those blast craters are bits and pieces of the rest of Delta 9. It really, really had not been a good day for the Gingerbread Men. Commander Brogan says, Nino lifts a dismissive hand, showing a glove scorched on one edge and coated in blood on the other. Then he walks outside. Boy! Nino shouts at the gnomes. You kill half our team and think you can just sit and play goddamn games? The gnomes, all dressed in red and blue with those tall, dunce cap-looking hats, turn to glare at Nino. One of them clears his throat. Lost half our guys too, now didn't we? Used to be eight of us. Now he's barely enough for a decent match of Scrappy-Pap. Cry me a damn river. Nino heads straight for the gnome. What's your name, pal? Nunya. The gnome replies, making the other three titter. Nice try. I'm not an eight-year-old. I'll ask again. What's your name? We gnomes go by many names. The gnome begins. There's our family names, our friendly rib-sticker. His name is Rib-Sticker. One of the other gnomes interrupts. All eyes move to him. What? It's Ribi's turn. He's holding up the game. Oh, yeah. Great it is. Sorry, sorry, me bad. Rib-Sticker says and tosses a rock into the air. When none of the other gnomes can hit it with their sticks, Rib-Sticker throws his arms up. Six points for the win. Thanks for that, long licks. A gnome snarls at the one who had spoken up. Long licks shrugs. Kept the game moving, didn't it? Rib-Sticker gets to his feet, which doesn't change his height all that much. He looks Nino up and down. He puts his hands on his hips and spits to the side. Okay, tall boy. What'd you be wanting with us? I and my team want you guys to stop blowing us up. Nino shouts. How's about that short, boy? The antidote there, didn't he? Long licks mutters. Always with the short comments. Another says. Bigger's these humans. Bigger's the last. The last one states. Quiet now, lads. Rib-Sticker says. I'm having a plumber with this one. Hard to hear him when he's speaking all the way up there. Nino points. You are Rib-Sticker. Are you the leader? Rib-Sticker shrugs, but doesn't reply. Nino points at Long Licks. And you're who? Long Licks? What's your role? Role? If Rib-Sticker here is the leader. I never said I was. Rib-Sticker protests. Then what are you three? What do you do? Nino finishes, then points at a different gnome. What's your name? E. One of the gnomes asks, pointing at his own chest. Half crown. Half crown? The gnome leans in to his buddies. It must be hard for him to hear all the way up there, too. Okay, half crown. What do you do? Nino asks. Are you a lieutenant? Field support? A medic? The gnome just stares up at Nino. Nino sighs and lets his shoulder slump. He looks to the fourth and last gnome. And who the hell are you? No need for profanity. The gnome says and doffs his tail. Point he had. Barbara. I'm sorry, what? Definitely hard for him to hear up there. Half crown whispers, getting an agreeing nod from Long Licks. What's your name? My name is Barbara. The gnome says again. It's a common enough name. Not sure why it confuses you. It's a girl's name. Nino says. Oh man! Rib sticker yells, throwing his arms in the air. You gotta go there, do ya? Long Licks snarls. Anything can be a girl's name if you think about it. Half crown says. Barbara only shakes his head as he turns and walks away. Hey! I wasn't trying to be rude. Nino calls after the gnome. Pull your head out of your ass, Nino. And wrap this up. Another broken cause from a cabin window. On it. Nino says. He claps his hands together quickly, making the gnome's jump, even Barbara. So we need you four to stop blowing up and come with us back to the foundation site. Unfortunately this is not a negotiation. If you do not comply peacefully, then we will obliterate the lot of you right here, right now. Oh, is that so? Rib sticker asks, crossing his tiny arms over his small chest. And how will your superiors take that, eh? It's like a, what do you call it? Snaps his fingers over and over. Mission failure. Long Licks says. Mission failure, exactly. Rib sticker nods. Do we care about these bastards and their mission failure lads? No! The rest of the gnomes shout in unison. That's your answer, mate. Rib sticker says. Right. As I said before, this is not a negotiation. You four are coming with us or else? Or else what? Rib sticker asks. Yeah. That part's a little fuzzy. Some Licks adds. Like your ma. Half-crown exclaims. I ain't coming back until the bastard apologizes. Barbara shouts from his spot over by the trees. Okay, I'm sorry. How's that? Nino says. Can you four come with us now? The facility is warm and clean, and we have all sorts of snacks and. Snacks, you say? Rib sticker interrupts. He sets his stick aside and approaches Nino. Tell me more about these snacks. Um, Nino licks his lips and looks back at the cabin. He gets encouraging thumbs up from his teammates, except for Commander Brogan, who is glaring at the gnomes, a look of outrage and disgust on his face. Nino looks back at the gnomes. Um, snacks, you know. Chips, pretzels, peanuts, probably some donuts and cupcakes, that sort of thing. Any smoked almonds? Rib sticker asks. Oh yeah, sure. I think we even have some wasabi almonds. Rib sticker rolls his eyes. Nah, I just want the smoked ones. We have those. That weren't much of an apology. Barbara shouts. Cranimate barbs. Long licks replies. We're talking snacks here. Snacks? Really? Barbara asks. Well, that changes everything. The gnome hurries over to the group, then steps right up to Nino and stares up at the man. Karaoke. Barbara narrows his eyes. Specifically, Betty Davis eyes by Kim Carnes. You got some Karaoke and Carnes, big boy? Yeah, you got Karaoke and Carnes, big boy? Half crown echoes. And smoked almonds. Rib sticker adds. All eyes fall to long licks. What? He asks, shrugging. I ain't got no special requests. Rib sticker sticks his arm out, then makes a shooing gesture at Nino with his hand. He lads and I need to confer a moment if you don't mind. He says, you go chat with your bros back there. We'll be with you in a second. The gnomes immediately huddle up and start talking in hushed voices. Nino doesn't walk back to the cabin. The gnomes stop talking and stare at him. Oh, right. Sorry. Nino says and walks backward to the cabin. You four talk. But how about we wrap this up and say, um, five minutes? The gnomes just stare. Ten minutes? Rib sticker snorts. And the gnomes continue with their discussion. Nino pivots and hurries into the cabin. The rest of the gingerbread men turn their attention from the cabin's windows to Nino. Not sure what good that did. Commander Brogan says, they could still refuse to come with us. I think the snacks will get them to come along, Nino argues. We do have great snacks, says Chive. The others nod. Forget about the damn snacks! Commander Brogan shouts, we need those gnomes and the transport. Now! The gingerbread men share a look. Hey, Commander, Bludge asks. Might be a good idea for you to take a break, eh? Let Nino run the show from here on out, just until we get back to the site, okay? What do you think about that? The commander narrows his eyes, and his hand goes to his sidearm. Everyone holds up their hands and starts shouting at once. Whoa, whoa, whoa! Commander Chill! Let's not escalate things. Take your hand off your weapon, sir! Nino yells, his own sidearm drawn and aimed at the commander. I will not ask again! Mute me! Commander Brogan yells and yanks at his pistol, but the safety strap is still on, and he can't get it out of the holster. Damn it! Thought I unsnapped that. The man's entire body just deflates, and he slumps to the floor, his hands in his lap. I think I may have lost my operational edge, boys. Commander Brogan mumbles, Nino, you have command. He looks up, tears in his eyes. Just until we return to the site. Understood, sir. Nino responds. He's about to say more when he's interrupted by Rib Sticker. Hey, Talbot, we got a deal. Nino lets out a long breath, then walks back out to the clearing. The others scramble to the windows once again. That's good to hear, Nino says. Now, you won't like this part, but we'll have to cage you for the ride. Also, Nino pulls a wad of zip ties from his back pocket. We have to secure your wrists and ankles. Not a problem, Rib Sticker says. Barbara actually likes a little bondage play. It's true, Barbara agrees. My safe word is avocado. Horrible safe word, Half Crown says. Yeah, Barb's. People say avocado all the time. Nino likes ads. Oh, what do you lads know? You ain't part of the scene. Barbara says dismissively. Anyway, Nino sighs. If we could get going, that would be great. You got them cages here? Or do we need to walk to your vehicle? Rib Sticker asks. Guys, cages! Nino shouts over his shoulder. The gingerbread men rush from the cabin, minus Commander Brogan. Chive throws a duffel bag on the ground and unzips it. Bludge reaches in and pulls four flat black panels out. He tosses them onto the ground, and they pop into three dimensions instantly. Oh, Mr. Sneadles would love those for her dungeon. Barbara says, four cages made of some shiny alloy sit in the clearing, each with plenty of space for a gnome to walk inside and get comfortable. Nino opens one and gestures at Rib Sticker. Please, he says, and Rib Sticker nods. The gnome walks into the cage and lets Nino close and block the small door. The other gnomes shrug and do the same. The surprised foundation operators hesitate for just a minute. Then they rush to pick the cages up, strapping them to their backs. They turn and regard the cabin. Commander? Nino calls. We are good to go. Commander Brogan comes, sauntering out of the cabin. I knew we'd accomplish the mission. Great job, men. I'll be sure to note your bravery in my report. The men can only blink at the commander. Nino shudders, then grins at the others. All right, let's get hoofing, he says. We have two clicks to cover before we get to the transport. Everyone gives a thumbs up, and the men start hiking around the cabin and into the woods. Commander Brogan watches them go, then hurries after them. The sun is almost set by the time they reach the transport. The gnome cages are set inside and secured to the transport's cargo hold walls. Chive walks around and gets into the transport's driver's seat. Nino takes shotgun, while the rest climb into the hold and strap themselves into their seats. This could have gone much easier for all of us, Commander Brogan says to Ribsticker. The gnome's cage is secured directly opposite the commander's seat. But it was good that you finally saw a reason. Hey, commander. Nino calls from up front as Chive navigates them to the main road. How about we don't communicate with the prisoners? Prisoners? Ribsticker asks with a smirk. I thought we were guests. You are, you are, Nino says quickly. Force of habit. Hey, you got any chewing gum? Half-crown asks. Hush, lad. That was not the time. Ribsticker says. It ain't. No, be patient. What's that? Bludge asks. What are you two talking about? Just gnome stuff. Ribsticker says with a grin. Yeah, gnome stuff. Half-crown echoes. They drive in mostly silence for the rest of the trip. It's fully pitch dark by the time they pull up to the foundation site's guardhouse. We'd almost written your team off. The guard says, waving them through the gate after checking Chive's credentials. I'll call ahead and let them know the gingerbread men are home safe and sound. We lost half our damn team, you moron. Commander Brogan shouts at the guard. Does that seem safe and sound to you? No, sir. Sorry, sir. The guard says, cringing as he retreats back into the guardhouse. Sometimes you got to be rough and tough. Ribsticker says. I see you, commander. I see you. Commander Brogan nods with confidence and bravado. The rest of the gingerbread men relax into their seats, glad to be back at the site. Once inside, the gnome cages are whisked away by research assistants. What's this? Ribsticker shouts. Where are my damned smoked almonds and Kim Korns? Barbara howls before they are all lost behind a four-foot thick bulkhead that slams closed with a spine-shaking thud. Oh, thank god. Nino shouts and raises his arms into the air. Hallelujah. The rest of the gingerbread men raise their arms, then start high-fiving each other. We lost good men today, commander Brogan grumbles. Remember them, boys. Remember them. He turns and walks off without another word. Yeah, pretty sure that was his last mission. Bludge says. Oh, shit. Chive agrees. All right, everyone. Get some rest. We'll debrief first thing in the morning, Nino says. Not now? Watson asks. We should debrief while we're fresh. Do you feel fresh, Watson? Nino asks. Good point. What time should we convene? 0700, Nino says. We'll get right to it first thing. They nod, split up, and each heads to their respective quarters. Once in his, Nino strips down and doesn't even bother cleaning up. He slips into his bedding and settles into his cot. Before he can even adjust his pillow, he's asleep. Then he's nod. His eyes open, and he stares into the darkness. Something woke him up. Then the sight's warning claxon explodes from the speaker and set into the ceiling. Nino clamps his hands over his ears and swings his legs out of his cot. He quickly gets dressed, wincing as the claxon assaults his eardrums. Fire team, no way for, fire team, no way for. A voice calls over the PA. Nino can already smell the smoke before he's even out of his quarters. Still yanking his boots on, he run hops to the end of the corridor where he bumps into Chive. What the hell is going on? He yells. No freaking clue. Chive yells back. Bludge sprints up to them and only his boxers in a t-shirt. It's the damn gnomes. Blood shouts. I spoke to Watson, calms. And he's at the containment habitat. One of the bastards blew a hole the size of a goddamn escalate in the wall. Crap, they're loose. Nino says. There's a near deafening roar, and the building shakes. Perimeter breach, perimeter breach. The voice on the PA calls. All personnel to stations now. The sight is under attack. Well, looks like you shit the bed, Nino. Commander Brogan says, staggering into view with an almost empty whiskey bottle in his hand. You let them inside. Now they're letting their little murderous buddies inside too. Cheers. The commander chugs at the bottle, finishing off the whiskey. Then he tosses the empty against the wall, shattering it into 1,000 pieces. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and pulls his sidearm. Now, let's go kill some midgets. He shouts and stalks off down the corridor, weaving a little to the left, then the right, before he straightens himself out. He really shouldn't have said that word. Chive says. Different generation, man. Ludge says. Let's go see what we can do. Nino says, and the three race after the commander. When they reach the containment sector, all hell has broken loose. So have multiple anomalies. A woman runs screaming as a lawn chair with fangs chases after her. Two men wrestle a pink and purple leopard to the ground, pinning it to the deck while it screams, Don de instal a biblioteca. Don de instal a biblioteca. An ostrich with a monocle strides by, gives the gingerbread man a curt nod, then keeps on striding. Then a small red and blue figure steps out of the smoke and haze, dragging something behind it. You stupid tall idiot. Barbara shouts into a microphone, his voice amplified by the speaker he's dragging along. Scrappy pap isn't a real game. We use that to confuse you. Screams fill the air, and Nino can see a horde of small, red and blue figures running everywhere. Barbara laughs into his microphone. You lot have been hunting us for years. Barbara says, his voice modulating like he's warming up his vocal cords. La, la, la, years. Did you know that my great, great, great-granduncle Salamander died in the same habitat you threw us into? I'm sorry. Nino says. Oh, you will be. Barbara reaches back and presses a button. The first few notes of Betty Davis's eyes ring out. Then the notes are cut short as a fire axe slams into the speaker, destroying it instantly. Commander Brogan yanks the fire axe out of the sparking speaker, grins down at the surprised gnome and says, karaoke this. He plants the axe's blade into the gnome's red pointy hat. The small creature splits in two, each half falling in a different direction as miniature guts spill everywhere. There are multiple explosions across the site. The smoke grows quickly, forcing everyone to hack and cough. Sorry about blaming you. Commander Brogan says to Nino as he walks over, flicking gnome gunk off the axe's blade. Took the loss as hard today, that's all. Feeling a lot better now, though. He looks down at the gore, still dripping from the axe. Feeling a lot better. Yeah, we can see that. Nino says. Two more explosions rock the building. The horror of gnomes is everywhere. Better not breathe! One screams at a woman in a lab coat. The woman has her hands over her mouth, her face turning dark purple. Then she drops her hands and gasps. Dumbass! The gnome explodes, turning the woman in the lab coat to bloody mist. The gingerbread men are coated head to toe in research assistant and gnome. Holy shit! Nino says. There are too many of them. There are, son. There are. Commander Brogan hoists the bloody axe onto his shoulder. You should get out of here. Let the gingerbread men fight another day. He wanders off into the chaos, lost from sight by the thick smoke that now fills every inch of the foundation site. Before Nino can respond, an explosion knocks them all off their feet as chunks of concrete rain down on them. A large piece slams into Nino's head and the world goes black. When he comes to, his lungs burn, his eyes burn, and his head feels like he's been drinking grain alcohol for a week straight. He shoves hunks of concrete off his legs and sits up, dazed and very confused. Chive, plunge. He rasps, his voice thick with concrete dust. He waves smoke out of his eyes. Chive, plunge. Hey there. Anome says, suddenly appearing out of the smoke. He waves, but not with his own hand. He waves with the human's severed hand. Cool party, right? Nino goes for his pistol, but it's not there. Most of his pants have been shredded and hanged from his legs and tatters. So not sure if this is going to work or not, but we're about to find out, ain't we? The gnome says, then takes the index finger of the severed hand and puts it against his nose. Boop. Nino throws himself flat and covers his head with his arms, just as the world around him explodes with gnome guts. Intense heat washes over him, and Nino can feel his skin crisp and crackle. Then the world goes silent. Head to the coast in Abercrombie's latest summer drop. It's dress season. From minis to maxis, there's a dress for every summer plan. And Abercrombie's new linen blend matching sets are so light and breathable. Perfect for brunch or rooftop happy hours. Dressed like you're on holiday, shop Abercrombie in the app, online, and in stores. Nino doesn't pass out. He just can't hear a thing anymore. He brushes himself off and reaches up to his left ear, but doesn't feel any blood. He checks his right. Good there, too. A loud ringing starts up, then turns into a low thrumming. Crawling on hands and knees, since the smoke is so thick that to stand up would be suicide, Nino makes his way around bodies, overbodies, and even through some bodies that are spread thin across the concrete floor. Red and blue fabric drifts on the air currents like evil confetti. A gnome's hat sits on the headless torso of a security officer. A pair of legs walks past. There is no rest of the body, only a pair of legs. Nino barely remembers an anomaly fitting that description. How many are loose? How many are dead? Nino shakes the thoughts away and keeps crawling, heading directly for the east tunnel. A sign says, motor pool, but it's barely legible behind the thick curtain of smoke, and all the blood splatter that coats any wall still standing. Still on his hands and knees, Nino tries the comms. Lodge? He's about to call for chive, then remembers the severed hand that the gnome had booped itself with. There had been a ring on that hand, a very distinctive ring that chive had always worn. It doesn't matter, though. The comms system is obviously down, and all Nino hears over the ringing and thrumming in his ears is scratchy static. He yanks the earpiece out and lets it hang at his shoulder, bobbing up and down as he crawls hand over hand through the rubble and debris. By the time he reaches the motor pool, his palms are like ground beef, and his knees are just flaps of skin, leaving a bloody trail behind him. The motor pool door is hanging on a single hinge, and Nino crawls past it. Inside, the air is much clearer, most likely due to the fact that the motor pool's hanger-style doors are wide open. Only a couple of vehicles are left, and Nino staggers upright as he limps toward a still intact humvee. Nino prays the keys are inside when he reaches the driver's side door and pulls it open. He stares at the ignition. No keys. Shit! He yells and limps over to the motor pool's office, where a large box hangs next to the door. The office itself looks like a charred mess, but the box outside is still there, although it's barely hanging on by one screw. Nino opens the box, and it falls to the floor, nearly crushing his feet. He jumps back, then hurries forward, snagging the two remaining sets of keys from inside. Limping back as fast as he can, Nino cowers when three explosions shake the building, each detonating one after the other, barely giving him time to recover between them. But he makes it upright and flings himself inside the humvee. Jamming one key into the ignition, he tries to start the humvee, but nothing happens. The key won't fully turn. Nino thinks back to his military days, where humvees didn't need keys. The ones he drove in the desert just had push buttons or toggle switches. But the foundation figured it would be safer to have keys so that the vehicles couldn't be stolen during an operation. Nino had understood the logic then, but silently curses it now. He throws the worthless keys out of the humvee and takes several deep breaths, trying to fill his lungs with oxygen as the smoke in the motor pool thickens. Even with the hanger-style doors wide open, the site's devastation is too much. Nino knows he'll asphyxiate in minutes if he doesn't get the humvee moving. He tries the second set of keys. Same result. The humvee refuses to turn over. Son of a bitch! Nino yells, slamming his fists against the steering wheel. He stumbles from the vehicle, crouching low again, staying under the smoky haze. Then he limps toward the huge doors and the open air. Smoke follows him, threatening to choke him off before he can get free. But Nino pushes on, and in seconds he's outside, standing on blacktop as the site burns behind him. He walks several yards, getting clear of the place before turning back and looking at what the gnomes have wrought. The entire site is engulfed in flames. Explosions here and there still erupt, sending debris flying into the air or flames shooting out at odd angles. There's a crunch of gravel behind him, and Nino spins around, going for his missing sidearm once again, muscle memory taking over. Ain't got your bee shooter, I see. Rib sticker says, standing there with his arms hanging down, a smudge of soot on his cheek. What a sad sight ye are, lad. A soldier without a weapon. I can still throttle your little neck. Nino says. Maybe, maybe not. Rib sticker says, doesn't really matter as I see it. I still die in the end. Still die in the end. What does that mean? Nino asks. It means we all have our fates set out for us in this war, lad. Rib sticker reaches behind himself. He pulls out a small can and holds it up. See these, lad? Smoked almonds, just like you said there would be. Took me a bit to find your snack cupboard, but I did. He pulled off the plastic lid and then peeled back the safety seal. You see, lad, while you may have experienced mission failure, me and my compatriots certainly did not. Wees right where we needs to be. And it's time to put an end to your foundation nonsense. Nino stares at the can of almonds, fairly sure he knows what's about to happen. This is only one foundation site, he says. There are dozens more. You can't stop us. Dozens more sites? How wonderful. Rib sticker says, plucking a smoked almond out of the can with his tiny fingers. That means there'd be plenty of fun left for the thousands of us gnomes still out there. You hear me, lad? Thousands. You'll still lose. Lose? We already won. Do you think this be the only foundation site that was attacked? Nino never gets to answer as rib sticker pops the smoked almond into his mouth, resulting in a mushroom cloud that can be seen for 100 miles around, showing everyone that, yes, Operation Scrappy PAP was a resounding success. Instances of SCP-5556 are to be housed in a standard humanoid group habitat scaled to 0.25 of standard size. Standard humanoid rations are to be provided. Small running wheels are to be provided in exchange for good behavior and to encourage exercise. Personnel are not to directly interact with SCP-5556, except as approved during testing. Any statements made by SCP-5556 instances are to be disregarded. Description. SCP-5556 refers to a group of humanoids resembling garden gnomes. Each wears a beard and a tall pointed hat. Each entity is between 30 to 40 centimeters tall. SCP-5556 entities are anatomically similar to humans, apart from their height, and possess a similar level of intelligence. Each SCP-5556 instance is highly explosive and will involuntarily detonate when a specific action is performed on it by a human. The action required differs for each instance. The explosive force varies widely between events, but is always sufficient to neutralize the affected instance. Instances experience a brief period of intense pain before detonating. SCP-5556 instances are not capable of inducing this effect on each other directly, but may attempt to persuade humans to induce it. Thanks for listening. Be sure to click that follow button with all notifications on to get notified every time a new episode is released.