Hi guys, it's Daisy. Spring has sprung, it is sunny and gorgeous outside, and honestly, I'm this close to saying y'all aren't gonna hear from me till September because I'm gonna But I will manfully resist the call of the sea because I have a podcast I want you to hear about. It's called Redacted, and it's the newest show from friend of the show Jamie Patronus of The Seller Letters and Athen of The Grotto.
Redacted follows Jacob Kane, a failing actor desperate for a fresh start who assumes the identity of his deceased twin. What he expects to be a simple accounting job turns out to be something far stranger. A position within the redacted an underfunded agency tasked with discreetly handling bizarre and often dangerous paranormal cases. As Jacob settles into his role, he begins to unravel the unsettling truths around his brother.
What begins as an act of reinvention slowly becomes a desperate descent into a treacherous web of paranormal forces, secret agendas, and moral- This show is a love letter to Control and to the SCP Foundation, and I really want... It may even feature a few friendly faces. Redacted will be crowdfunding starting May 17, 2025. If you love SCP, you'll love Redacted, and I really recommend it.
You can hear their trailer after the credits, and links to their crowdfund will be in the show notes. That's all for now. Enjoy the episode! SCP-6819. Object class. Keter. Special containment procedures. Containment of SCP-6819 is impossible at this time. Research into SCP-6819 and further preventative measures are ongoing. Currently, Foundation Protocol discourages travel between 11pm and 4am local time, unless absolutely necessary.
In cases when travel is unavoidable, a party of four or more is strongly encouraged. Agents can confirm translocation into SCP-6819-1 by the sudden inexplicable disappearance of other vehicles. and observation of a particular fortified structure. See description for more details. Any agents who believe they're inside SCP-6819-1 should continue driving while maintaining a fast but safe speed. Do not attempt to leave the highway or to change the direction of travel.
Drivers are authorized to use their discretion and ram entities blocking the road if necessary. Under absolutely no circumstances are personnel ever to stop, exit the vehicle, or approach the building. Description. SCP-6819 is a phenomenon exclusively targeting Foundation personnel driving on the United States numbered highway system. phenomenon causes the sudden translocation of vehicles and personnel to an extra-dimensional region designated SCP-6819-1.
The bounds of this region are unclear and may vary, but data obtained from escaped suggest a finite space traversable by car in less than one hour. SCP-6819-1 resembles a US highway with all identifying signage removed and no natural illumination. The surrounding area is difficult to see, but the area to the subject's right is consistently rocky or wooded and slips upwards to the top of a hill.
A large building overlooks the highway from the hill. Its physical characteristics change, but all subjects describe it as an imposing prison, castle, or military base with high walls illuminated by spotlights. The requirements for triggering SCP-6819 are as follows. The driver of the vehicle must be a current or former employee of the foundation. The vehicle must be moving independently of other vehicles such as tow trucks.
The time must be between 11 p.m. and 4 a.m. in the local time zone. The moon must be in a waning period. And there must be no more than three people inside the vehicle, including the driver. SCP-6819-1 always encourages or attempts to force the driver to slow down, stop, and exit the vehicle. The specifics of this event are inconsistent and vary wildly from subject to subject.
Research into the origin of SCP-6819 as well as preventative measures beyond those listed above are ongoing. Addendum 6819-1, Survivor Account. Subject. Agent Alice Sterling Agent Sterling was driving a 1999 Honda CRV down US 95 in Nevada. The only passenger was Kane, a male golden retriever. SCP triggered at 1.15am local time. Begin log. I didn't notice the change right away. There weren't many cars on the road to begin with, so it just looked like another stretch of vacant highway to me.
Kane knew something was up right away, though. At first, he was just relaxing in the back, but suddenly he started turning in circles and whimpering with his tail between his legs. I didn't see the building for another few minutes, but by then I could hear this soft, high-pitched buzzing outside. That's probably what was making Cain nervous. I noticed a discoloration on the road ahead and slowed down.
There were a number of black cars stopped in a row in the left lane, and the entire highway Asphalt, guardrails, cars, everything was coated in this shifting green substance. I moved over to the right lane to get by, and suddenly the substance started to move. Oh shit! A cicada swarm? There were hundreds of thousands of them, maybe millions. They were everywhere, buzzing and screaming and making the air shimmer. They were so loud.
Thankfully, I closed the windows in time to keep most of them out of the car. But they covered the windshield and I had to slow to a crawl to get through them. you I didn't think cicadas ever came this far west. At least, not in those numbers. I had to slow down and turn my wipers onto the max setting to see anything. That's when I saw the building.
It was a little scary, but seemed safe, strong. I didn't see any cicadas on those walls, despite the lights. I also noticed an unpaved road diverging from the highway that led up the hill. I intended to take the road that led up there, but Kane went crazy, just growling and barking at the back. It's okay, buddy. We're gonna make it outta here. Oh, shit. I missed the turn because of the distraction, and he calmed down. I decided to just keep going, and I made it out around 1.30 in the morning.
End log. Subject, Dr. Adam Makowitz. Dr. Makowitz was traveling down US-82 in a 2004 Toyota Sienna with his wife, Dana. SCP-6819 was triggered around 11.34pm local time. Begin log. It was dark, but I noticed a sudden change in the landscape immediately. I tried to check our location on our GPS, but of course it didn't work. The building became visible at the top of Rocky Hill. It reminded me a little of Site 16, you know, with huge concrete walls and spotlights panning slowly over the cliffs.
My wife Dana was with me and fast asleep. I knew better than to wake her given the circumstances. I kept driving, but the building's position remained fixed. and speed I was going made me believe I was driving towards it but it never got any closer it was like it was on the road with me which is absurd obviously I just couldn't
I couldn't shake the feeling that we were somehow anchored together by the highway. Then, I noticed a dark blocky object at the edge of the desert. I saw it as my headlights fell on it in the middle of a turn in the road. A couple miles later, I saw something like it again, but further out. It was moving at a constant speed, bucking and rocking as it drove over the uneven terrain next to the highway. But it wasn't the intermittent gait of something on legs, but the smooth pace of a vehicle.
moving parallel to the interstate. I shot by it pretty quickly, but I thought I was hallucinating. When it appeared again, it was moving perpendicular to the highway and rocketing towards us at high speed. I slammed on the brakes, and it narrowly missed us. As it passed, I thought for a moment that I could make out two white eyes, like angry twin moons reflected back at me in the headlights.
Jesus Christ! What? What? What's going on? Is everything okay? Where are we? I'm not sure. Something strange is going on. Something just tried to ram us. Where do you think you're going? I'm gonna see if I can spot them again. And what if they decide to try again? Well, we're exposed here in the middle of the road! But... Get back in the car, Adam!
I just want to see where they went. They could have killed us. I know. That's exactly why we should get out of here. But... Jesus Christ, Adam. Get back in the goddamn car. Alright, let's get out of here. I wanted to get out and look for the vehicle that tried to ram us, but Dana was right. It was a lousy time to get out and walk around. I was tired and more than a little terrified. I wasn't thinking straight.
I'm so glad Dana was there to be the voice of reason. I don't want to know what would have happened if I'd been stupid enough to go wandering in the dark. We got going again, and I lost sight of the building around ten minutes after midnight. End log. Subject. Researcher Samuel Sybar Researcher Sybar was driving a 2017 Ford F-150 down US-123, with no passengers other than a 650-pound hog in the truck bed. SCP-6819 triggered at 12.56 AM. Begin log.
I've been briefed on SCP-6819, so when I couldn't reach HQ on my radio, I knew the only way out was through. The building became visible within one or two minutes, and I noticed right away that the spotlight were all pointed at the same spot down the road. I read a few of the accounts associated with this anomaly, and this detail seemed uncharacteristic. All the accounts I've heard describe the spotlights sweeping the landscape like they're looking for something.
But here they were, all focused on the same spot. As I approached, I noticed a trail of small gold or brass objects glimmering in my headlights. Then there were tire streaks, and I found the twisted flaming wreckage of a black SUV. It was one of ours. I think it must have crashed into the guardrail and rolled until it came to a stop.
There were bits of it all over the highway. I guess at some point the gas tank had been punctured. There were a few small fires burning around the wreckage. The driver and passengers... I think by their equipment, had been thrown or maybe dragged through the broken windshield. They were burned up pretty badly. Torn apart. There. Entrails were spread out all around them. the bodies the bodies were right in the center of it all the
The lights, I mean. It was like they were focused on these two bodies. I had to get off the road, but couldn't avoid driving through the viscera. I saw another body lying several meters away from the edge of the scene. Whoever it was, I swear, they moved. They were reaching out, begging for help. Their legs. Thank you. had no legs. I wanted so bad to stop and get out, but I...
I knew better. I looked away, focused on the road, and drove past as fast as I could. That's when I felt the truck shake. I figured I'd driven over one of the bodies or a piece of debris in my panic but I couldn't stop I knew that if I did I'd die I focused on the road and the gas and burned out of there as fast as I could. I think I got out around quarter to two and I was able to get back in contact with command.
Later, I got pulled over by the fuzz. They noticed the back of my vehicle was covered in blood. They made me get out and look so I could explain the mess, but I couldn't. The pig cage in the back was open and the hog was dead. It was still there in the back of the truck, attracting flies as I stared in shock at its hollow abdomen. It's heart, lungs, stomach, intestines, kidneys, all the major organs. They were just gone. And log. Hi guys, it's Daisy with your ad break.
Hello, hello, I'm Malik. I'm Jamie. And this is World Gone. Where we discussed than to times we're living through. Can your manager still schedule you for night shift? After that werewolf bit you. My ex-boyfriend was replaced by an alien body snatcher, but I think I like him better now. Who is this dude showing up in everyone's old pictures?
We are just your normal millennial roommates processing our feelings about a chaotic world in front of some microphones. Find World Gone Wrong in all the regular places you find podcasts. Alright, back to the show. Subject. Site 322 Director Paul Legg. Director Legg was driving alone in his 1977 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am down US 120 in Pennsylvania. SCP-6819 triggered at 2.03 a.m. local time. Begin log.
So there I was, burning up the highway at my Trans Am. You ever driven one of those things? Man, it is a beast. Beautiful car. The sound of that engine is like music. Anyway, I noticed the disappearance of the other vehicles right away. It was a pretty empty road, and I was driving like a bat out of hell, but I could see the lights of the other drivers right until they flickered and winked out. It was like candles.
and a strong breeze or something. I tried calling Simmerian, but he never answers his damn phone after hours. And besides, I couldn't get a signal. Typical stupid Simmerian. Then there was this bright light. I couldn't see a damn thing. It was a spotlight or something, and it followed my vehicle for a few seconds before drifting away. After everything that's happened to me, I figured I was just lucky enough to get caught up in an episode of The X-Files and end my career with...
with an alien abduction. But it wasn't a UFO. When I looked up I could see there was a building on my right looming over the highway with these big spotlights sweeping over the road. Between the barbed wire the guard towers and the spotlights it looked like a fortress like some kind of maximum security prison or something. I've driven down 120 dozens of times and sure I get tunnel vision pushing the limits on the Firebird but I know there's nothing like that anywhere on that stretch of the road.
I thought, mistakenly, that I'd taken a wrong exit, so I made a U-turn at a likely spot and hit the gas in the other direction, letting the speedometer climb until the building disappeared from sight. Thank- I'm out of there. But a couple of minutes later, there it was again. That's when I knew I wasn't in Pennsylvania anymore. I noticed the taillights of other vehicles ahead
I could hear people honking and shouting. The cars were all stopped in the right lane, which forced me to move over into the left to get around them. That's how they almost got me. See, my instinct as a long-term driver was to slow down as I drove past all these stopped cars.
All of them were brand new jet black sedans with their windows rolled down. Every one of them had their hazards on and they were all honking at each other. I could hear shouting and I wondered why the hell none of them just switched over to the other lane. I looked over and realized they were all empty. empty except for these glassy white eyes staring out at me. The drivers only started to materialize as they climbed out of their car windows and leaped on top of the Trans Am. Shut the fuck up!
I hit the gas and tried to drive past them. I'd have driven on the opposite side of the road if not for the guardrail. Some of them opened their car doors and stood in front of the car as I sped towards them. I thought about slowing down to protect the firebird. I
love that car, don't get me wrong, but there was no way I was braking for a bunch of teachers. Translucent freaks, so we're gonna smash it up anyway. I hit the gas and spit out of there, smashing three of those bastards, ripping the doors off their cars, and burning
burning past the traffic jam with half the bastards still clinging to the roof on the sides. Hell, one of them got up on the hood and was smashing the windshield with its bare hands when I crossed back to the real world around half past two. It just... Disappeared. Cost me a fortune to fix the Trans Am. My insurance doesn't cover anomalous activity. End log.
Subject, Jamila Barro. Agent Barrow is driving a Foundation-issued 2009 Chevrolet Tahoe with no passengers down US-49 in Missouri when SCP-6819 triggered at 12.17 a.m. local time. Begin log. It was around quarter after midnight when the supermarket freezer truck I'd been following for the last 20 miles suddenly disappeared. It was late. And my third hour on the road.
So I figured it had just pulled off somewhere and I hadn't noticed. But US-49 usually has some traffic. Even at midnight, so... I started to get a little anxious when I didn't see... any other cars for a few more miles. I've been up and down this highway at night, dozens, maybe hundreds of times. But I never noticed anything like the strange building I saw through the tree line.
It looked like a huge prison towering over the landscape. It had these big floodlights. Ones that swept back and forth over the trees, casting deep shadows across my path. Had I missed my exit? I looked at the dashboard clock and the numbers had gone weird. The clock was full of symbols that shouldn't have been possible. To make things worse, my phone was out of service. That's when I became sure something was wrong. A few years with the Foundation and you notice when things aren't right.
Then I came across an obstruction in my lane. The ruined corpse of a bull moose. Still alive. Despite the pool of warm blood steaming on the ass. Despite the coils of intestines spilling out of its abdomen, torn free by the maw of a massive black furred beast. I want to say that it was a bear, but I know better. It was bigger than any bear I've ever seen. With fur so dark, it swallowed my headlights. Its arms were thin and long compared to the rest of it. Like human arms.
There was a path leading off the road to the right of the creature. It wound up the hill towards the prison. But by that time, I'd remembered the file. I was sure that was a trap. I was going to have to stay on the highway and drive past the monster if I wanted to escape. It turned its head to peer at me with glassy white eyes just as I hit the accelerator. Let's go, you son of a bitch! Part of me wanted to ram that fucker at 100 miles an hour.
But when it turned to face me, it rose up on legs shaped like tree trunk. It was at least two or three times the height of a man and wider than my vehicle. I knew my puny Chevy would hit it like a four-year-old trying to tackle a 300-pound football player. Instead, I waited for it to spread its talent fingers and swipe at the I swerved around it and ducked just in time to keep my head as it tore the top of the vehicle clean off.
Shit. Shit. Okay, Mara. I sped past the prison, and when I looked at my dash clock again, it was 12.38 a.m., and I was out. I had to crush the legs of that moose to get by the monster. When it's quiet. I can still hear it screaming. End log. Addendum 6819-2. Interview with Agent Barry Novak. The following interview was conducted by Dr. Seth Siener after Agent Barry Novak was recovered from a battered Toyota Prius on US-160.
Agent Novak was found suffering from mortal abdominal trauma. His life was extended long enough to conduct this interview by application of SCP. Begin log. Hey Barry, sorry about the wait. It's fine. It's fine. It's not exactly a lot going on here. Just for the record, can you recount what happened one more time? Again? You don't have to go into too much detail. We just want it on tape. Alright.
I was driving down 160 near Cortez. It was like 2 in the morning. There were some other cars around, but it was mostly death. When did you notice something had changed? I have a little compass on my dash. It started freaking out. You know, spinning around one way, then the other, like... Like I suddenly couldn't find North? At about the same time, I noticed I couldn't see anything.
It was a dark highway anyway, but suddenly there were no more taillights, headlights, nothing. Even the moon was gone. And it was pitch black beyond my high beams. I'm not afraid of the dark. Mind you. Hell, with what we have to deal with on the daily, I wouldn't blame you if you were. I know I am. Not gonna lie, I still have a nightlight in my room. Can you describe the building to me? Sure. Um... It was perched on the cliffside, big and imposing. The mother of all buildings.
It had these huge concrete walls and big fuck-off guard towers. It was bright to it. The only source of light in the area where this- huge spotlights. And you kept driving. Hell yeah, I kept driving. Sure. At this point, I knew where I was and what was happening and what to do, so I... I did the only thing I could. I kept going. Okay. The spotlights followed me. Followed the car, I mean. Do they always do that? It's not exactly common, but it wouldn't be the first time. That, um...
That scared me. So I sped up. I was waiting for whatever was going to show up in the road. Last time you mentioned that you saw some figures? Yeah, um... Maybe four or five people, it's... It's hard to remember exactly. They were standing in the middle of the road facing me. Where'd you describe them? They were all white folk, I think. Naked is the day they were born. Except for these... masks. black masks covering their entire heads
They had these white eyes staring back at me. They reflected the car lights, I guess. They were holding weapons, I think. Maybe guns, but they could have been bats or clubs of some kind. It's hard to say It all happened so fast. What were they doing? Just standing there. As you know, the absence of living people in SCP-68191 is usually an important signifier. Are you sure they were people? God. Who knows? They sure looked like people. I don't know if they were actually alive or...
Just some apparition, but... Yeah, they lucked the part. What did you do? I wasn't really prepared for a fight. My car is a shitty little Priya. So sure, I could maybe run over somebody, but if one of them opened up on me with a firearm, I was done for. And then I saw the road. The road? Yeah. You know. The dirt road. Going up the hill. To the building. And you took it? Yeah. I figured it was a better option than playing chicken with a bunch of naked gunmen. I knew better.
I've read the damn file like everyone else. Can you describe the drive up the hill to me? The road was bumpy, but drivable. I switched into second gear and started going up. The headlights chopped through the brush. And the spotlights were on me the whole time. All of them. Shining down on the roof of the car, blinding me. So you stopped the car? Yeah. Then they, um, wandered off me. Formed a line leading to one of the walls of the fortress shining on a big door. What kind of door?
It looked like a blast door, almost. The whole affair looked like it. A bunker. How did you feel? Weird. A blend of scared and safe. Safe? Um, yeah, I... After the darkness of the highway, the light was... comforting. And the walls looked very safe. I started driving towards it. Did the door open? Oh yeah. It opened a crack, and then all the spotlights went out. All at once I was in total darkness except... Except for the lights of the car. Then what happened?
I, uh... I don't know. I don't know. I woke up here. You don't remember anything? Nothing. It seems like you managed to get away, although you were obviously attacked. All the windows in your vehicle were broken, and you had severe lacerations to your... I'm aware of the quality of my wounds. Thank you. We found you in a ditch by the highway. Airbags deployed. Like this. I, uh... I asked them to put me down tomorrow. The machines and drugs were keeping me conscious, but...
There's not much left of me. I hurt all the time and I don't want to keep going like this. I know. Gracias. Your family will be taken care of, Barry. I'm so, so sorry. I should have plowed through those masked fucks when I had the chance. Killing people isn't a natural instinct Novak. No, but that's how it got me, isn't it? I don't follow you. It exploited my natural instinct.
When you're in the dark, you see a light, and it makes you feel safe. When you're driving, lights, they usually mean civilization, right? It's natural to believe that a lit area will be safer because nothing that lurks in darkness can hide there. But whatever that place is, it calls you through the dark, drawing you close right into its waiting jaws. Like a damn angler fish. And log.
SCP Archives was created by Pacific S. Obadiah and John Grills. SCP-6819 was written by Rounder House. Script is by Kevin Whitman. Our narrator is John Grills. Agent Sterling is Kayla Township. Dr. Makowitz is Josh Beer. Dana Makowitz is Melissa Love. Researcher Sybar is Derek Baylor. Director Paul Leigh is Tal Manier. Agent Barrow is Rissa Montañez. Dr. Sainer is Gaviro. Agent Novak is Steven Anderson. Our dialogue editor was Derek Fitton. Sound design was by Brad.
Music was by Matt Roy Berger. Art was by Eduardo Valdez-Hebbio. I'm your showrunner, Daisy McNamara. Our creative director is Pacific S. Obadiah. Our executive producers are Tom Owen and Brad Misko. And this is a Bloody FM show. you you You're listening to the teaser trailer for Adapted. Today, I'm playing a simple game of Call My Blood. Okay, you've been uncharacteristically quiet. What do you think? Is that the one of the victims?
Please. No, cut it out, Jacob. Why are you pretending to be Jordan? Two to the chest, one to the head. Pow, pow, pow. Carl, please tell me you're not talking about the West Burning Man. Morning! Are you ready for a little road trip? Just stay with me. It's classified. Typical proper tight-ass bullshit. Oh, should've brought bigger guys. It is. Talk, it's their face. Focus. figure out what happened here. Who is this?
My name is Jordan Redacted is a monster of the week horror podcast that follows He assumes the identity of his deceased twin. my best job. He accidentally redacted yet. A secret agency terrifying threats no with guest writers and voice talent from the world podcasting. It blends intense horrors, dark humor, and a dynamic cast. Set to release by the end of the year, our Kickstarter is live now at theredactedunit.com slash Kickstarter. So, there it is. Any questions, concerns, snide remarks?