SCP-5864

Link to article: SCP-5864.

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[[include :scp-wiki:component:anomaly-class-bar-source
|item-number= 5864
|clearance= 3
|container-class= pending
|secondary-class= none
|disruption-class= dark
|risk-class= caution
]]


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[[include component:image-block | name=https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8e/Paul_Wayland_Bartlett_cph.3a00997.jpg/714px-Paul_Wayland_Bartlett_cph.3a00997.jpg | caption=An image of SCP-5864 found in the pocket of its trench coat| width=300px]]


**Special Containment Procedures:** All digital media associated with SCP-5864 is to be removed from the internet immediately. All associated commercial products are to be discontinued and physical copies must be destroyed.[[footnote]]Some digital and physical copies may be exempt from the destruction for archival purposes.[[/footnote]]

SCP-5864 must be kept in a humanoid containment cell at Site-17, furnished and decorated in accordance with its accommodations depicted in //The Adventures of the Esteemed Sir Reginald.//[[footnote]] A children's television show that aired its first episode on 14-11-1986.[[/footnote]]

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**Description:** SCP-5864 is the designation for a male humanoid, manifested as a result of an ontokinetic event. The manifestation is correlated with humanity’s collective memetic belief concerning the fictional entity.

SCP-5864's features are identical to a character named "Sir Reginald" in the children's show //The Adventures of the Esteemed Sir Reginald//, and to the description of the character on the show's official Wiki before it was taken down. SCP-5864 is of English and Scottish descent and in its mid-thirties. SCP-5864 is 185 cm tall and weighs 83 kg, with brown eyes and hair. The entity manifested wearing a bowler hat, trench coat, and attire similar to formal wear worn in London, c. 1890s.

SCP-5864 exhibits mannerisms similar to a resident of 1890s London, but speaks perfect modern English, along with 28 other languages.[[footnote]]The languages it has shown proficiency in are the same as the different translations that its show airs.[[/footnote]] SCP-5864 is diagnosed with multiple mental disorders, often experiencing delusions, hallucinations, mental breakdowns, and mood swings. Whilst SCP-5864 is normally amicable and cooperative with the Foundation, it has occasionally exhibited aggressive behavior towards personnel.

SCP-5864 has exhibited anomalous deductive and observational skills, able to come to logical conclusions based on seemingly unconnected pieces of evidence. SCP-5864 has shown its mental acuity by escaping containment on numerous occasions but has always been subsequently captured without conflict. 

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**Discovery and Containment:** SCP-5864 was discovered wandering a residential area in Cary, North Carolina by local law enforcement; it was subsequently detained within the local police station for questioning under suspicion of performing illegal activities. During the interview a police officer addressed SCP-5864 as its alias in //The Adventures of the Esteemed Sir Reginald//, resulting in a mental breakdown and attempted escape. SCP-5864 was later moved to a mental hospital for assessment. The entity escaped captivity into a nearby metropolitan area, where it was later found. After an investigation of the hospital and police station's records, SCP-5864 was transferred into Foundation custody and given an entry due to its anomalous deductive and observational skills. 

[[div style="border:solid 1px #999999; background:#f2f2c2; padding:4px; margin-bottom: 7px;"]]
[[=]]
++++ NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION

As of 13-1-1990, SCP-5864's Special Containment Procedures and Description are out of date. An update of the article is underway.

-- Zander Vance, RAISA

[[/=]]
[[/div]]

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[[collapsible show="+ Open Initial Journals" hide="- Close Initial Journals"]]

SCP-5864 was provided pen and paper to record its thoughts during containment. The following are excerpts from its journals.

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[[div class="blockquote"]]

**18-12-1989**

[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]

//Who// am I? //Where// am I? 

It was as if a million voices called to me from the primordial void, urging me to materialize into existence. The cacophony of a trillion trillion voices whispering, //Exist, exist, exist// was deafening, all-encompassing. A million hands grasped at my mind, pulling it in seemingly infinite directions. My mind warped, manipulated by those millions of invisible fingers as if they were shaping clay into a finite form. The mist, billowing out from this center of infinite darkness, coalesced into a single thought. 
 _
 _
 _
 _
 _
The last thing I remember was darkness, and then some uniformed fellow forced me into his vehicle, and drove me to a blank, white room, devoid of any and all decoration. 

He asked me some questions from across the table we were seated at, and I answered to the [Unintelligible scribbles]- asked me my name, and for the life of me I couldn't quite recall. He then mention //that// name. Why did he have to say //that// name, the name to name all names? It was as if he had hit a chord through my body, reverberating, as the world converged upon my mortal form, sitting ever so quietly in that office chair. Many images and memories seemed to flash before my eyes. How did he know //that// name, of all names? How could he have known? 

How could I have known?
 _
 _
[Unintelligible scribbling]

The uniformed man then brought me to another white room [Unintelligible scribbles]- explained to me that this was where I was to stay. I saw the dark glass that didn't quite conceal the glint of the camera lenses, the metal bars on the windows, and the various armed people on the way to my "room", and somehow knew that this was a prison.

I could tell where the prison's cameras couldn't see by looking at the angles they were poised in, where the men weren't stationed from the dust on the floor, where the doors weren't locked from the state of the handles. I made a map of the building in my mind and planned my great escape at midnight.

-and swiftly set off on the road to the nearest settlement, which direction I could discern from the state of the road I walked upon. I passed through the town, marveling at the world I found myself in.   It was in that moment where I saw //it//. I saw a strange mockery of me, looking back through a television screen. He, no //I//, was talking to someone. I was asking if a certain Samuel could hand him a magnifying glass. Samuel? Yes, I know a Samuel! Or was it //him// that knew a Samuel? 

//Who// am I?

On this day, November 14th, may it be known that my assistant, Samuel, has saved my life once again. I was investigating a murder when a lone assassin snuck up behind me. He was armed with a revolver, which surely would have been fatal at close range if not for my loyal assistant tackling me to the ground, thereby saving me from a grievous wound. We quickly apprehended the assassin, who turns out to have been hired by-

[Words are scribbled over]

//Who// am I?

[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**20-12-1989**

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Oh god, the voices! Make it stop! Make it
 _
 _
 _
I suddenly woke up in a blank cell, with the last thing I remembered being Samuel saving my life. Or was it really //his// life? I remember! 

[Unintelligible scribbling]

//Mr. Hiri! The audacity!// I hadn't heard from him in years, until suddenly one day, he demanded I meet him in a back alley in Piccadilly, where he promptly asked me to join his crime syndicate. I had refused of course, but I should have known he would have sent a hitman after me!

Why was I having flashbacks? Why am I remembering //his// memories? Or are they mine? 

//Who// am I?

A doctor, Dr. Kannan, entered my cell and asked me a couple of questions, such as who I was. I wasn't sure if even //I// knew who I was, so I told him that. He asked me a couple more questions, but I didn't know the answers to any of them. 

He then explained to me where I was. He told me that he was part of an organization called the "Foundation" and that they were tasked with containing the strange and the dangerous. 

[Words are crossed out and smudged]

Later that day, Dr. Kannan entered my cell again and asked me to take multiple tests, to which I refused. What did they expect? I refuse to indulge my jailers.  
[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]
**I want to be back-1989**

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[[/div]]

[Unintelligible scribbling]

I want to be back

--I first met Samuel when I w@@-@@--

--The doctor came back in m@@-@@--

--That bastard! I shou@@-@@--

--They asked me to sta@@-@@--

I know alove in Why home. Back to am I want. Back to back to lone. Where are are I? Why? Why? Back to was I am are all I cursten alike ant to where. Back to all I am I and love and love am alove in Who was I are. Back. I? Why are? I know alone. Back to lone. Back to love am an. I am all I? Why ho was I know and to and to world. I alone. Back. Back to lone. Back to love alone. Back. Back to love. Love alone. 

I am scared
 _
 _
 _
 _
What is happening
[[/div]]

[[/collapsible]]

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[[collapsible show="+ Open 6-1 Incident Footage" hide="- Close 6-1 Incident Footage"]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]
**Site-17 Security Camera Footage, Cam 14**

**Date:** 6-1-1990

[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]
**<Begin Log>**

//SCP-5864 is sitting in its cell watching the television, which is playing Season 3, Episode 9 of The Adventures of the Esteemed Sir Reginald.// [[footnote]] SCP-5864 had been granted permission to view the archival copy of //The Adventures of the Esteemed Sir Reginald// at this time.[[/footnote]]

//The television zooms into the character Sir Reginald's face.// [[footnote]] Cross-referencing with the archival copy has shown that this footage is different from the originally aired show. [[/footnote]] //Sir Reginald turns and stares directly at SCP-5864 through the television.//

**Sir Reginald:** Who might you be?

**SCP-5864:** What do you mean? I'm you!

**Sir Reginald:** My condolences. All this must be terribly hard for you. We might look the same, but you see, you and I are fundamentally different.

**Sir Reginald:** Stop pretending as if you are me, as you cannot be me in the same way that I cannot be you. Quite frankly, I'm afraid that you're simply missing the point.

//SCP-5864 is visibly pale and shaking. It tries to stand up but its legs buckle and it sits down.//

**Sir Reginald:** (//Pause//) //Who// are you?

//The television screen turns black, and after a moment, SCP-5864 faints.//

**<End Log>**
[[/div]]
[[/collapsible]]

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[[collapsible show="+ Open Additional Journals" hide="- Close Additional Journals"]]

The following journals were found on a bench in Ward Park, Chicago. 

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[[div class="blockquote"]]

**7-1-1990**

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[[/div]]

The voices, the voices! They whisper incessantly, an orchestra of shrills and yells and warbles. They talk on and on and on. They tell me all sorts of things, that I made their childhood, that I was their hero, that they always wanted to be like me. It is so exasperating, yet it may be the only thing that kept me sane. It keeps me anchored, helps keep me in this world and not the next. 

And yet there is this one voice, from the darkest crack in my mind, crooning dark thoughts. //You are beneath us. You are not human.// It whispers, slowly, as it poisons my mind and the mind of others. Whenever I close my eyes, I can almost see the voice's dark tendrils, worming their way into every part of me. I am afraid it will not rest until I am a broken man. 

The dark voice grows louder when the doctors come near me. I do not think I can endure it for much longer. The doctors ask me to take a test, //Abomination!//, the voice shrieks. Once you are told something for long enough, you find it harder to //not// believe it. Maybe they are right? I- I do not know. 
[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**9-1-1990**

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Maybe he is right. 

What should I do?

What would //I// do?

Who am I to say?

How do I know what I shall do, when I do not even know who I am? 

**//What would he do?//**

**Can I even call myself him?**

**//Does that matter? All you have ever known is him, this is the only thing you can do.//**

**You are right.**
[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**10-1-1990**

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[[/div]]
I had escaped my jail and my jailers. Prey can escape even the stealthiest predator if the predator steps on a single leaf, and the Foundation were not stealthy predators by any means. They searched for me like bumbling idiots, making such a ruckus that a man both blind and deaf could have sensed them coming from a mile away.

For all their advanced technologies, for all of their big men with big guns, they failed to notice the little details, little details a detective is trained to recognize. They know no subtlety - and hence I remained undetected.

But for all of my clever little tricks, all of the times I hid in plain sight, I keep on coming back to the same thought. 

I am lost. I do not know what to do. 

I was never given an identity in the show. I was never allowed to grow organically, to progress, my entire being was altered at the whim of the high and mighty gods, the lords of all creation. I never got to choose, it was always, "go over there, you have to say this, you have to do this." Now I am given a chance to choose, yet I cannot. How can I know what I want when I do not know what rules I have to follow? I do not know who I am, how do I abide by my personality when I make decisions, follow my own identity? 

I am standing at a great crossroads, both paths stretching towards the ends of the Earth, yet I am unable to stick a foot forwards, and take that first step. 

Why me?
[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**12-1-1990**

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I had a close call today. I was getting too cocky, overconfident that those fools could never catch me. The Foundation has some sort of advanced scanning system, and I had forgotten the vast array of technology they had at their disposal. Luckily, my quick thinking led me to dive into a ditch. They came over, almost within a foot of where I was lying, but they quickly resumed their search as I had carefully concealed myself. They must have thought it was a malfunction. The fools and their short attention spans! I shall be more careful in the future. 

As they passed over me, I heard one of them talk about an "anti-memetic agent." Scientists and their vocabulary! The term must be important, so I will have to figure out what it means soon enough. 

[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**14-1-1990**

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[[/div]]

Just as the voices reached an almost staggering crescendo, they stopped. In an instance, the millions upon millions of whispers simply vanished, purged from my mind. I do not know whether to be elated or concerned. The voices were bewilderingly loud, yes, but they kept me anchored to this world. They were the only constant in my ever-changing situation, and now they are gone, forever lost to the void. 

I do not know what their silence means. 

The silence is deafening, all-knowing, all-present. 

I feel as if the silence had rent a piece from my chest. In the absence of the voices, I feel empty. 

[[/div]]
[[div class="blockquote"]]

**15-1-1990**

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I do not know what drives me to keep going. Maybe I do not want to keep going, yet here I am, writing on these pages I keep in my coat.

I arrived on the outskirts of a large city early in the morning, with buildings embracing heaven's grasp, so tall that I could not see their tops. I knew that the Foundation would find me easier in the city, yet something strange drew me into the city, to her people. //I// would be in there. 

I looked through each and every window, so desperately yearning to catch a glimpse of that show. He would have answers for me. As daylight waned, I searched in vain for even a glimpse of him. 

In a panic, I grabbed a passerby and shook him, asking him where I could find him, where I could find Sir Reginald. He looked confused and told me that he had never heard of a "fellow named Sir Reginald." 

It hit me then.

The silence, the deafening silence. The world had forgotten him. The Foundation had wiped all knowledge of him off the face of the Earth. 

What does that make me then? The last vestige of an idea, forever lost?  He- He would have had answers for me. Now- Now I do not know what to do. 

I am lost, finally alone. Lost lost lost

[Unintelligible scribbling]
[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**16-1-1990**

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[[/div]]
I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, so tantalizing close, the hope for a better future. I could see his hand, outstretched, reaching for mine. Straining, I extended my arm, yearning to be saved from this madness. In all of my giddy foolishness, I thought that this nightmare would be over. 

The hand is gone now gone. It is all gone. Swallowed by this cruel, uncaring world. And I am alone, in this endless tunnel, with no way out. No way out.

[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**18-1-1990**

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The last couple of days have been a blur. I am lost, and yet I still continue. I continue to evade the cameras, the drones, the men. It is almost instinctual, as if I have been on the run my entire life, and perhaps I have.

It was during one of the moments when I was carefully traversing out of sight of a patrol team when the voices came back. At first, I was ecstatic, shocked even. Maybe the Foundation had not been as successful as I once thought when they wiped him from existence, but I later recognized those poisonous whispers, louder than ever, spoken with even more vehemence and malice. //You are an abomination. You are beneath us. You are//-
[[/div]]
[[/collapsible]]

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[[collapsible show="+ Open Ward Park Footage" hide="- Close Ward Park Footage"]]

The following footage was retrieved from a security camera located in Ward Park, Chicago. 

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[[div class="blockquote"]]
**Date:** 16-1-1990

[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]

//Footage shows a park, near dusk. SCP-5864 can be seen sitting on a bench writing on a sheaf of paper. There is a commotion to the right of SCP-5864, two men are kicking a man lying on the ground. Facial recognition software has identified the two aggressors as Nithin Boling and Benjamin Hast-Gyr.//

//SCP-5864 is staring into the distance, it turns and sees the fight.//

**SCP-5864:** What would he do? I- I don't know.

**SCP-5864:** (//Pause//) What would //I// do? Will the voices triumph?

**Boling:** Fine! If you're too much of a damn coward to do it yourself, I'll do it!

//SCP-5864 sighs and looks at the ground.// 

**SCP-5864:** I suppose the first choice is always the hardest.

//Boling takes a pistol from Hast-Gyr's hands and aims at the prone man's head. SCP-5864 takes a step towards the three men and pauses. It proceeds to places down its pen and paper and sprints towards the three men.//

//SCP-5864 hits Hast-Gyr in the jaw, who collapses onto the ground. It then kicks Boling in the crotch, making him drop his gun. SCP-5864 crouches down and picks up the gun, throwing it into the North Branch Chicago River. The entity then helps the man up, identified as Jacin Lee.//

**SCP-5864:** Come on, let's get out of here.

**Lee:** T-Thank You. But, why did you help me? You could have just walked away.

//SCP-5864 stares past the tree line and purses its lips.//

**SCP-5864:** I suppose every lost soul finds their way back eventually.

//SCP-5864 then leads Lee out of the park towards W Erie St.; Lee is visibly limping.//

**Closing Statements:** All three men were questioned regarding the Ward Park Video Log events, but none of them had relevant information about the whereabouts of SCP-5864 and were subsequently released. 

[[/div]]
[[/collapsible]]

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[[collapsible show="+ Open Retrieved Files" hide="- Close Retrieved Files"]]

The following files were retrieved from SCP-5864's computer after its death on 21-5-2021, having eluded the Foundation for 31 years. 

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[[div class="blockquote"]]
**24-1-1990.docx**
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[[/div]]
//Why did I help that man?//

I suppose I saw a little bit of me in him. 

We all have those voices in our heads. He had those voices in a quite literal sense, and I suppose I felt like I should help someone similar to me. But ultimately, it is up to us to see if we can rise above those voices, or let the voices conquer us. 

After the park, I could not stand the city anymore. He lived in a city all of his life, yet something disgusted me about //that// city in particular. Every moment I remained in the city felt like a little bit more of my soul was being tarnished. I believe the Foundation will find those journals at some point, but that was a risk I was willing to take. I think I will move to the countryside, where it will be harder for them to find me. 

I did miss the point. I think I know what kind of person I want to become now. I will not let the voices win. I refuse to be conquered.
[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]
 _
**Poster.jpeg**

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[[/div]]

 _

[[image Poster.png]]

**Note:** I'm getting better at this graphic design thing. The poster still needs some work though. 

[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**Email_Archives.eml**

-----
**Subject:** Investigation Update
**To:** Maria Goldhagen

[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]

Dear Ms. Goldhagen, 

There are several important updates to the case that I thought I should inform you of. Unfortunately, I cannot divulge the specifics via email so I will be brief. First and foremost, I managed to enter the warehouse. The security was surprisingly lax for an organization with such a reputation for secrecy. 

I did not manage to secure your requested evidence as it appears that they destroyed it, but I believe I have discovered something much more valuable. 

I think what I recovered can finally solve it.

Call me soon.

Yours truly, 
Investigator Danglier

-----
**Subject:** Re:Investigation Update
**To:** Maria Goldhagen

[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]

Dear Ms. Goldhagen, 

No need to thank me. I am glad I could help you find closure. 

Yours Truly, 
Investigator Danglier

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**Subject:** Publishing Evidence
**To:** Pranav Siv

[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]

Dear Mr. Siv

I know it sounds crazy, but you have to trust me. Public opinion is not on our side at the moment. We need to bide our time. I promise you your wait will not be long. I too wish for nothing more than for them to face justice, but now is simply not the right time to do this.

Yours Truly, 
Investigator Danglier

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**Subject:** Re:Re:Missing Children
**To:** T. Campbell

[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]

Dear Mr. Campbell 

I am happy for you and your family! This is one of the reasons I do this job, to see people like you live the lives you deserve.  

Yours Truly, 
Investigator Danglier

[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**Checklist.docx**


[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]

--**New York Times: //Unsolved Murder of Journalist O.T. Goldhagen//**--

--**Vox: //"Power Broker of LA", head of the largest crime syndicate in California//**--

--**USA Today: //What we know about the serial killer dubbed, "The Eviscerator"//**--

--**CNN: //Dozens of children kidnapped in human trafficking operation//**--

**Daily Wire: //What happened to Flight 167?//**

**NPR: //Newly released footage shows the Zuka Cartel torturing hostages//**

**Fox News: //Terrorist organization Boko Haram kidnaps 34 school children//**

[[/div]]

[[div class="blockquote"]]

**Video.mp4**

**Date:** 28-2-2004

[[div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #888;"]]
[[/div]]

//SCP-5864 is watching a computer monitor, and the screen suddenly turns black. The screen then displays Season 1, Episode 1 of The Adventures of the Esteemed Sir Reginald as the perspective zooms into Sir Reginald's face.//[[footnote]]Footage was cross-referenced with the Foundation's copy of //The Adventures of the Esteemed Sir Reginald//[[/footnote]]

//Sir Reginald turns and stares at SCP-5864, smiling. SCP-5864 utters a strangled gasp and grasps the armrests of its chair.//

**SCP-5864:** I thought you were gone!

**Sir Reginald:** You remembered me. That is all that matters.

**Sir Reginald:** What did you become?

//SCP-5864 pauses and looks away from the monitor for a moment.//

**SCP-5864:** After that fiasco in the city, I- I don't know. I suppose I decided to make my own choices for once in my life. But after all these years, I don't know if all of them were the right choices. It's- it's been so, so hard without-

**Sir Reginald:** Did the choices you made make you into who you wanted to become?

**SCP-5864:** (//Pauses//) I think so. 

**Sir Reginald:** At the end of the day, isn't that all that matters? That you created yourself around your choices?

**SCP-5864:** Well- (//Pause//) Yes. I suppose I did. I decided to embrace all of the parts of you that I liked and I change all of the parts that I did not like. I have shaped myself into someone unique, someone who wanted to help. I- (//SCP-5864's voice breaks//) I am myself. I am the Sir Reginald of this world, and I am damn proud of it.

//Nodding, Sir Reginald turns around and starts walking back into the scenery of the episode.//

**SCP-5864:** Oh. One more thing. Did I ever get the point?

//Sir Reginald turns back to face SCP-5864 and smiles.//

**Sir Reginald:** Of course, old friend. I think I am finally starting to recognize you again. Farewell.

//SCP-5864 smiles and closes its eyes as the monitor turns off.//

[[/div]]
[[/collapsible]]

------

[[footnoteblock]]



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[[/=]]
[[/div]]

[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]]
=====
> **Filename:** Paul_Wayland_Bartlett_cph.3a00997
> **Author:** Underwood & Underwood
> **License:** CC0
> **Source Link:** [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Paul_Wayland_Bartlett_cph.3a00997.jpg Wikimedia]

> **Filename:** Poster.png
> **Author:** EagleKnight9
> **License:** CC BY-SA 3.0
=====

[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]

SCP-5864

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