Another year slipped away, marked as always by the now‑familiar surge of system notifications announcing the next arrival. Every member in the system chat paused whatever they were doing. Some held their breath. Some sent silent prayers. Some begged for mercy.
Me?I just waited.
The SCPs had been kinder lately—useful, cooperative, non‑apocalyptic. But the universe had a habit of flipping the board the moment you let your guard down.
So when the glowing text appeared in front of me, I braced myself.
A new anomaly has manifested.Designation: SCP‑148.Alias: Telekill Alloy.
My eyes widened slightly.
Now that was interesting.
Not dangerous in the traditional sense… but unbelievably valuable for containment work.
The Watcher's spies found it quickly: an unassuming block of dull, gray‑silver metal partially buried in stone, not far from one of the Northern mountain ranges. It looked insignificant—far less dramatic than SCP‑079's eerie computer or SCP‑4001's impossible library.
But I knew better.
Telekill Alloy was one of the most valuable substances the Foundation could ever hope to acquire. It didn't shock. Didn't explode. Didn't warp space. It didn't even emit dangerous radiation.
But it had one devastating property:
It could block, weaken, or disrupt psychic and mind‑affecting abilities.
If SCP‑999 was a miracle of peace, and SCP‑294 was a miracle of resources, then SCP‑148 was a miracle of defense.
In a world where we would eventually face some of the most terrifying cognitive SCPs in existence, Telekill was a godsend.
We needed it.Sooner than anyone wanted to admit.
O5‑2 personally oversaw the recovery. The alloy was heavy—absurdly so for a material that looked almost like scratched platinum. The system had given us the bare‑bones description, exactly as expected:
• Dense, dull, platinum‑like metal• Resistant to psychic influence• Dampens telepathic, memetic, or cognitohazardous effects• Can be forged into barriers, weapons, or equipment
Nothing more.
The rest—composition, melting point, processing difficulty, alloying behavior—was up to us to learn the hard way.
I had half the recovered material shipped directly to one of O5‑2's forward engineering bases, where he would handle weaponization, armor development, and testing its psychic‑dampening effects in controlled environments.
The other half?I kept in one of my personal research labs.
Telekill was too valuable to hand off entirely.
Even gods shouldn't be trusted with monopoly over weapons like this.
Dr. Bright joined me when the alloy arrived at Site‑17. He tapped the crate with mild curiosity.
"Well, that's fun," he said. "Telekill Alloy. Finally something that won't try to eat us or wipe out humanity."
"Don't jinx it," I replied, sliding open the reinforced lid.
Inside, the metal chunks lay inert. So normal‑looking. So harmless. And yet any telepath or psychic entity would recoil from them instinctively.
"…Still better than SCP‑106 showing up," Bright added cheerfully.
"Don't even say his number."
Bright raised his hands. "My bad. My bad."
The first challenge was figuring out how to work the metal. Telekill wasn't like steel or gold or platinum. It didn't melt at normal temperatures—not even at the extreme levels our modernized furnaces reached. And even when we managed to liquefy it, it behaved unpredictably.
Metal should flow like molten syrup. Telekill moved like thick mercury, resisting shaping until we introduced a stabilizing agent.
Three weeks of trial and error.Seven broken crucibles.Two nearly ruined forging tables.
But eventually, we discovered the correct alloying technique.
A 92% Telekill base.7% vibranium micro‑filaments.1% carbon‑iron structural binder.
And suddenly, Telekill became forgeable.
The combined alloy retained its psychic resistance while achieving the strength of a high‑grade steel, and the durability of platinum reinforced with vibranium.
A new miracle metal.
Our metal.
What we created became known across the Foundation as TK‑VX Alloy.
O5‑2 sent updates from his side too:
• Prototype helmets that block external telepathy• Weapon casings that prevent hostile mind manipulation• Shield plates for future anti‑cognitohazard armor• Scrying‑proof containment chambers• Inhibitor cuffs for psychic anomalies
We were preparing for the future.
The real SCPs.The ones that turned people insane through a glance, a thought, a whisper.
We weren't ready for those yet.
But with TK‑VX, we were taking our first steps.
The system chat lit up with messages as I uploaded our early findings:
O5‑4: You made vibranium Telekill alloy? What are you, allergic to normal metallurgy?O5‑7: I am begging you not to create anything that could erase thought.O5‑9: This is amazing! Humanity's first anti‑memetic metal!O5‑2: Continue refining the alloy. We will need this sooner than you think.
They didn't understand how right O5‑2 was.
Because even without direct access, even without summoning, even without a single trace of them in the world yet—I knew what was coming.
The memetics.The cognitohazards.The psychic SCPs.The ones that warp minds with presence alone.
One day the God behind the system would throw us one of the nightmares.
SCP‑096.SCP‑106.SCP‑049.SCP‑682.
Or something even worse.
And when that day came, this metal would be the first true line of defense we ever had.
Not guns.Not walls.Not soldiers.
Telekill.
I spent my nights refining new forging techniques, testing psychic‑resonance dampening under controlled simulations, and theorizing about the potential to incorporate TK‑VX into containment chambers.
Meanwhile, SCP‑079 watched me from the other room.
Silent.Inactive.But thinking.
Always thinking.
Once, while I walked past its chamber late at night, its dark screen flickered to life without prompt:
YOU PREPARE FOR ENEMIES YOU HAVE NOT YET SEEN.
I stared at the text.
"Yes," I answered. "And if you break containment, you'll be one of them."
The screen went blank again.
Almost like a laugh.
With Telekill secured and research underway, the year came to a close. We were stronger. Better prepared. More advanced.
But the next anomaly was only months away.
The God behind the system had been generous so far.
But sooner or later…
He would stop sending us gifts.