Something tells me you already know what I'm about to talk about. Despite the horrors I've shared with you, you keep coming back. You cross the same doors, walk the same corridors… and you listen. Strange metallic noises. Muffled knocks. Moans that seem to travel through the pipes. Many here believe the Foundation's facilities exist to contain monsters. A half-truth, like so many that circulate. I suppose you want the other half, don't you? Very well… sometimes, the facilities are the monsters. Come with me.
Before we continue, you must understand: if you tell anyone exactly where we are, they will throw you in there and seal the entrance without a second thought. It's 'an old warehouse' and nothing more. If you end up in trouble, I can't help you, and if I know these people well, they'll prosecute me too. At least you'll have company...
SCP-015, one of the oldest, or at least so they believe. No one knows its exact extent, but the best estimates suggest more than 190 kilometers of bent and twisted pipes among boilers, valves, and basically every conceivable plumbing fixture. The smallest pipes are only 2.5 centimeters in diameter, and the largest exceed one meter. A person could end up trapped in them… if SCP-015 so wishes.
Trying to understand its configuration is a waste of time. At first glance, SCP-015 seems still, but I imagine you've already noticed some differences. Several pipes are rusted and leaking, while others give the impression of having been installed yesterday. No one at the Foundation is responsible, and no one was assigned to its maintenance. To be honest… no one dares.
Why? Look closer. There's something truly strange about those pipes, isn't there? That's because they aren't made of traditional materials. You won't find PVC, lead, or copper. SCP-015 manufactures its pipes with metal, wood, glass, granite, bones, human flesh, and more. As if that weren't enough, they couple and fuse with anything they find. The Foundation discovered it had reached eleven other structures in the area. How did they manage to reduce it to this size? With blood, of course.
You see, SCP-015 reacts to any movement it considers aggressive, and sees all tools as a threat, without exceptions. It doesn't matter if they are electric or manual. Even if your intentions are good or you wish to make a repair, SCP-015's response is always no… and it will let you know. Its preferred form of attack is to make the pipes explode, bathing its victim with the high-pressure content.
Boiling oil. Mercury. Rats. Impossible-to-identify insects. Ground glass. Seawater. Entrails and guts. Cast iron. The fluids that SCP-015 transports can eat you alive, melt your flesh like fat, make thousands of cuts on your skin, or drown you. No, high-pressure pipe explosions aren't enough. Sometimes, SCP-015 traps you in its spaces, and lets its liquids in. Slowly.
All authorized explorations require teams of three elements, GPS tracking, and physical safety lines. Some managed to escape its fury… but the Foundation lost eleven agents, and twenty others were declared 'missing'. And it is growing. SCP-015 increases in size when we don't look at it. The Foundation will be forced to intervene sooner or later, and those with the most luck will die quickly. Do you really think those knocks… are the pipes?
CLASSIFICATION: EUCLID
