The SCP Experience - Black Friday | SCP-137

Episode Date: November 27, 2023

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-137: Black Friday This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-137 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Lucas Click Discover the Author's impressive series of SCP Tales here: https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BVWJFGV3 Check out more of Mr. Click's work here: newpulptales.com DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The crowd is thick with angry and malicious energy. It writhes and seethes like a living creature. Every breath infused with promised violence and thinly veiled threats. The attempt at standing in single file is challenged every time newcomers join the fray. We're already stretched three blocks across, and most of us have been here since the night before, stomping our feet and stuffing our hands in our pockets in a pathetic attempt to stay warm. The older woman behind me loses her balance,

and teeters forward. I managed to stop her fall, and she smiles and stutters a thanks over the frigidness in the air. Unfortunately, it's enough to push me just a little into the much larger man standing with his back to me. He rounds on me slowly,

towering over me by several inches. His hair is buzzed short against his pale scalp, and he grunted me to show his teeth between his puffy lips. The cauliflower disfiguration of his ear, here tells me he's no stranger to fighting. Mixed martial arts, not from the size of his gut. It looks like he's been out of the circuit for a while, probably too all to have picked up on the trend when it was popular with guys his age. Good old-fashioned American boxing, if I had to guess.

What are you looking at? He asks with a cocked eyebrow, each of his knuckles popping as he makes a fist. It's hardly the most threatening insult I've ever heard, but then again, I guess your body does most of the talking for you when you're built like a brick shit house. I meet his gaze, not betraying any excitement as I run through half a dozen different ways to pick the man apart. It would be satisfying, too. I'm not the type of guy who goes looking for fights, but the holidays bring out the worst in all of us. Everything about this guy is screaming asshole. Sometimes, cutting down guys like this is good for the world.

At the very least, it'll make sure. that they treat the next random stranger with a bit more respect. Susie, my daughter's name reminds me why I'm here. The fight goes out of me, my body deflating, along with the vision of ripping the guy's throat out. I'm not here to become some spectacle on YouTube, or to be dragged away by security guards. Not that the foundation would leave me cooling in a jail cell long.

Still, that kind of thing is frowned upon during a performance review. Sorry. I break eye contact with him and glance at the sidewalk, letting him know he's the big dog. Lost my footing. That's what I thought. The guy grunts and chuckles before turning away from me. Fantasies of grabbing him from behind and giving his neck one quick twist play through my mind

until a cold breeze sends another ripple of agitation through the line. I do my best to shrug it off and not let it affect my mood. I work security for the foundation. so I'm used to being in control. But even shadowy secret organizations have their limits. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been standing in line freezing my nuts off for the past 14 hours. All for Princess Pliothi. Or for Susie, anyway.

When it comes to being a father, I think I do a pretty good job. I provide a house for my kids and my wife, not a mansion or anything, but four sturdy walls, a basement, and a garage. maybe even a pool this summer. Add to that a couple of decent cars, private schools, and at least a dozen extracurricular activities between my three kids. And I say that sums up my abilities as a provider nicely. And that's not even bringing up the nine to five, where I'm literally making sure that

there will be a world for them to grow up in. But, as my wife likes to remind me, there's a difference between being a father and being a dad. And that would annoy me less if I didn't know she was right. I provide everything my kids need to survive, but my job means spending a lot of time in the office, ensuring that the SCPs stay safely contained and away from the public. The secretive nature of my work only makes the rift between me and my family larger. Maybe one day, if my kids go into the family business, they'll understand the sacrifices that I went through for them.

But part of being a good father means not wanting your family business. kids to repeat your mistakes. Hopefully, there'll be doctors, lawyers, or some other job with a big salary and few people to answer to. Until then, I've just got to keep walking the line and try to scoop up more dad points, even if it means waiting in line during Black Friday for the biggest toy craze since Tickle Me Elmo. The crowd moves again, rearing back and forth like an angry snake with a mouse dangled in front of it. Mr. Grusome in front of me rears back his shoulders, clearing a small circle around him. He cocks back on one leg like a sprinter. As the doors open, he barrels through the crowd, knocking over several men and women as he

runs through the door. What a piece of... The rest of my comments are swallowed up by my fellow shoppers. A roar of excitement and aggression fills the shock left in the wake of the man's charge and swallows me up. A wave of motion ripples through the crowd, pushing me forward. I look around for the old lady, but she's gone. Everywhere I look, there's nothing but screaming and angry people. Shit. There's no time to try to be a hero. I push myself through the crowd, weathering the blows and shoves that come with every step.

The store manager is yelling something over the megaphone in his hands, but it only adds to the noise and the confusion. Resisting the urge to lash out at the crowd, I remind myself that these are only civilians. I risk my life every day to keep people like them safe. My temper nearly swallows the reminder, but I press on, chanting why I'm here. Princess Paliathy, Princess Palliathy, Princess Palliathy. The mantra and love for my daughter carry me through the door and into sheer chaos.

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The conditions can apply. It only takes a few minutes for the fighting to start. People grab shopping carts and immediately slam into each other. trying to force people out of line. It's at the worst near electronics,

where most of the goods are kept locked behind the glass. Pity and shame roll off my back as I ignore the poor sales associates forced to contend with the madness and head toward the toy department. Surely, things won't be so bad there. I was right. It's even worse.

I guess I'm not the only parent trying to make sure that their kid doesn't have a lousy Christmas. I'm just the only one unwilling to shed blood to make it happen. Two women grip each other by the hair, then collapse on the ground, screaming obscenities that would make de-class blush. Their husbands rush over to untangle them,

then devolve into a shouting and shoving match when one of them accidentally grabs the wrong spouse. I ignore them too. Hopefully, I'm ignoring enough that I won't remember any of the madness I've witnessed today. My shock fades with happiness as I find Princess Pliothi stocked up in a pyramid, growing smaller as the mob of desperate parents snatches them up. I recognize gruesome from earlier. He slams his fist into an unsuspecting grandfather's back, then dumps the old man on the ground and takes his place in line.

Okay, that's enough out of this guy today. Charging forward, I keep my pace steady despite the cacophony blaring in my ears. I come up to the rear of the crowd, just as gruesome grabs a woman by the hair. Before he can yank, I thrust three fingers into a nerve cluster at the small of his back. His body goes rigid and his fingers limp, letting the woman pull herself free. Just for fun, I throw a couple of quick, rapid punches in the same spot before allowing him to collapse on the ground. His mouth, a silent grimace of pain.

Medic! I scream at the top of my lungs. We've got a man down over here. People like to think we're different, but in many ways we're the same as animals. Looking around the mall today provides me with all the evidence I need. Sometimes, the only way to break mob mentality is to shock us and remind us of our humanity. A bit of command and a dash of violence is usually enough to do the trick in my line of work. Guess it works outside the foundation too. My shouts are enough to shame everybody into a momentary respite from sliding down ever,

evolutionary progress, and to get the employee's attention. It's also all the distraction I need to grab the last two Princess Poliathies from the shelf. The crowd is already turning on each other again as two associates break ranks to tend to the fallen customer. While they busy themselves with that asshole, I help the old man back to his feet and hand him one of the dolls. His eyes open wide, and he wraps his arms around me. I'm taken aback, but I laugh and clasp him on the

the shoulder. Better keep these down on your way to check out, I caution him. This crowd is going to get ugly before it gets prettier. He sighs and looks down at the doll. Maybe they should take a lesson from the toy, huh? I'm not entirely sure what he means. All I know about the toy is it's at the top of my daughter's wish list and notoriously hard to get. I've caught a couple of episodes with Susie, streaming from the couch. But I'm usually so zonked out that I nod off before the opening credits. Looking down at the package, I examined the purple dress and dark curls beneath a pointed hat. Princess Poliathie, the flowing cursive writing saying, the politest in the land. Really? I turned the box over, looking for something more enticing for children, but can't find any.

That's her whole gimmick? I figured, a wave of screams, drowns out the rest of my thoughts. This day has had lots of shouting and yelling, but these are different from before. The noise is stripped of all aggression and replaced with notes of terror. People swarm and shove over each other, but they're working toward our direction, not further into the store. Looking closer, I see blood splattered around the ankles of some of the runners. As people clear the tight hallway and scatter, the old man gasps. Several bodies lay lifelessly on the floor. At first, I think they've been trampled, but the lone straggler bringing up the rear proves otherwise.

Several deep gashes are gouged into his ankle, forcing him to hobble. A spray of blood erupts from his other leg. He goes down screaming as a miniature ball of purple works up his back. He stops moving, but the ball of fluffy fur sinks its claws in deeper, tearing away chunks of flesh, sending torrents of blood out as it crawls over the man it killed. It looks up at me, and the old man with vaguely familiar, googly eyes. Its purple fur smeared with blood from the out-of-place long claws extended from its hands. Is that?

The old man swallows. Is that Binzo Missoui? I faintly recognize the name. It's one of the must-have items from a couple of past Christmas wish lists. Most of the demand for the toy dissipated after its cartoon was canceled. The murderous toy looks up at us, and as it clears the must have, body, severing the head with the final spray of blood. It raises its claws and stomps toward us. The man yells in terror, but it's hard for me to be scared of something that only comes up to my

ankles. I wait for it to draw close before unholstering the gun from my back. Then I take careful aim. Squeezing the trigger reignites the crowd with fresh screams, but the bullets do the trick. The doll goes up in an explosion of fluff and blood. It's shattered and broken body crumbles to the floor. If I were you, I'd get out of here. But my fellow shopper has more sense than me. He's already taken off, probably around when I unholstered my gun. Too bad the rest of the crowd doesn't have the same survival instincts. A few of them are still clustering around, using this as an opportunity to pull out their cell phones. I grunt in annoyance and lower my gun but don't holster it. And it's enough to keep the phones pointed away from me. One less

thing the foundation investigators will have to worry about cleaning up. Speaking of them, I reach for my phone and get ready to call when the doll stirs. It's only for a moment, then a light shoots out of it, and it goes still. The spark is brief, like from a Roman candle, and collides into the ranks of action figures I don't recognize. What the hell is a space ranger? One of the packages explodes off the shelf. Cardboard and plastic go flying as the toy transforms into something life-sized. It's a man covered in green armor with black slits for eyes and its metallic helm.

It's carrying a giant, sci-fi-looking rifle, which is all the invitation I need to pull the trigger again. The bullets bounce off the helmet and bring its attention toward me. Duck in cover! I scream and jump across the floor, but the other shoppers don't. As I roll across the floor, green light pours from the gun in a jagged bolt of energy. It rips through the crowd, cutting the renewed scream short, as the weapon makes quick work of them.

They evaporate into smoking clouds of green smoke, leaving an acidic stench in the air. Grabbing the Princess Poliathie doll, they take off across the floor. The raygun rips through the aisles, leaving a trail of green flames against everything it comes in contact with. But eventually, I manage to make it to some cover. I check Princess Poliathie and see only a few burn marks on the corner.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I bring my phone to my ear and make the call. here and make the call. This is Agent Lee, code black situation at West Point Shopping Center. Unknown anomaly contacted, requesting immediate secure and containment protocols. Agent Friedman whoops with glee as he fires his grenade launcher. The incendiary charges make quick work of the stuffed animals, turning them into a pile of smoldering slag. Usually, Friedman isn't unlike most other agents working security for the foundation.

Just a little bit of the chatty side. Since engaging the creature and determining it was possessing and inhabiting toys, he's taken to destroying the objects with unrestrained joy. Agent Friedman! I snap at him. You want to explain yourself? As if finally remembering where he is, he cuts out the cackling and awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. Sorry, sir.

I caught a lot of flack for not celebrating Christmas as a kid. Guess I got a little cathartic there. I can almost understand that, and check to make sure Princess Polyothea is, protected in my gear bag. The holidays make us all do strange things. My team hadn't been ecstatic to be pulled from their Thanksgiving holiday to deal with the rogue SCP. Dealing with the Space Ranger manifestation alone took over an hour and a good chunk of our explosive ordnance.

Thank God the rest of the Space Ranger toys were destroyed in the crossfire. I'm not sure we would have survived a second round with one of those. But the entity still had plenty of other items to work with. We've spent the last few hours mowing down a litany of toys brought to life. Stretch Armstrong went down in a melted blaze of incendiary goo. Both Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head were sliced and diced. As for Barbie and Ken, well, the less said about them, the better. I didn't even know there was a Kung Fu Master Barbie.

Fortunately, we neutralized every manifestation and cut off its means of egress by destroying the toys as we blasted our way through the mall. at our way through the mall. I feel bad for our PR teams, but I'm sure they'll be able to blame most of this on terrorism. Eyes up and weapons ready, I remind my team. We've crippled this thing, but it's not out of the fight yet. Ah, come on, boss. Friedman grins and rests his rifle on his shoulder. We chase the thing down to the toddler section. What's it going to do? Swaddle us to death. The shadow rises above Friedman before we can shout a warning. The bear barrels into him. and batters his face with its claws.

Breedman's expression is frozen in shock between the claw marks, serrating his face. I raise my rifle and train my sight on the snarling animal. Pair off! Fire and reload! Agent Gray, my number two, steps beside me while the two surviving team members fall back. Gray rises her rifle, and we open fire at the same time. The bear rumbles and roars as it absorbs the bullets.

Fluff explodes from the bullet holes and lingers in the air like snowflakes amidst the carnage. Our weapons click empty as the bear takes two steps back. We step back as the bear charges forward, only for the other two agents to take our place and open fire. As the bullets pelt the bear, Gray and I check our magazines, then frown at each other. We're down to our last mags,

while the rest of our team is down to the same. The bear is teetering, blood finally mixing with the stuffing. It's hurt, but more ferocious. than before, like it knows it has nowhere to run and is making a final stand. But this isn't right. We fought it when it jumped into other animal toys, and it went down much sooner than this. The toys? The entity only gave up when it had another means of escaping. For all we know, this thing is immortal. We need to get it in something less hostile, but there's no toy left for it to flee and to except for, ah shit, Gray looks at me in confusion as I reach for my satchel.

Fire! The agents do as I say and break away from me. I reach for the last grenade on my belt and toss it at the bear's feet. In my other hand, I hold up the Princess Paliathy doll, letting the bear get a good look before ducking around a corner. The explosion rocks the table at my back as the doll's weight grows exponentially. I was expecting this, though, along with the tiny flash of light in my vision. As weight fills my hands and the smoke clears, I look down at the same.

smiling princess in my arms. The grenade hasn't damaged her radiant purple dress or crumpled her pointy hat. Oh, my goodness, that was ever so dangerous. Princess Pliathy beams up at me. Thank you ever so much for your perfect display of politeness, Mr. Policeman. Think nothing of it, Your Highness, I say, bending my knees and letting Princess Paliathy down. I don't suppose I could ask for a selfie. My daughter's a big fan. Why, of course. Princess Poliothi always proudly pamper the polite princesses of tomorrow. I nod along with the act, smiling while reaching for the phone clipped at my waist. I keep my smile trained on her as I reach past my phone and unholster the pistol at my side.

Before Princess Poliothi can frown, I crack the gun across her face. As she stumbles back, I adjust the grip and bring it down over her skull. She goes down like a house of cards. and I breathe easily for the first time all day. Quick thinking, sir, Ray says. Yeah, do me a favor. Keep your eyes peeled for any more Princess Poliathy dolls. SCP-137 is an entity with the ability to possess a toy,

gaining the physical properties, size, and shape of whatever it represents. For example, a teddy bear will become an actual bear and behave accordingly. SCP-137 cannot possess any missile. non-cellaneous object, only toys. The observed range of SCP-137's possessive effect is 250 meters, but until further testing has been accomplished, SCP-137 is assumed to have a maximum range of 500 meters from its position. Testing has shown that SCP-137 takes on the characteristics of the toy it possesses,

but only as a child might perceive it. A toy soldier becomes a violent, well-armed man. A toy gun fires bullets. A toy lion attacks and kills humans. However, it lacks true intelligence. It shows no sign of long-term memory, nor any capacity for learning or abstract thinking. It is currently inhabiting a princess doll of the Princess Paliathie line.