The SCP Experience - Cruel and Unusual Punishment | SCP-1002

Episode Date: March 9, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-1002: Cruel and Unusual Punishment Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1002, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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50 tours on $1 million to $10 dollars, Veillage me in a way responsible. The conditions apply. What do we have these Class D personnel for? If not for experimentation, Dr. Briggs says to me,

and the two other security personnel assigned to this SCP, we're standing in the hallway outside the observation room. Dr. Briggs just happened to spot us from his office across the way. None of us says anything, thinking that he will continue his little rant, but he pauses as if waiting for an answer. Oh, I say. I thought that was a rhetorical question, sir.

I believe that we have Class D personnel for one reason only. Experimentation. That's right, he says, looking up at me. He's a small, plump man that reminds me of a pug. Maybe he has one at home. He seems like the type to own one of those ugly little dogs. So, why is it that getting approval for my experiments is so hard? He continues.

Why is it that they want to micromanage every little thing? I've been with the foundation for nearly ten years. Ten years! I exchanged looks with the two other security guards. I barely know them, since I'm new to this particular SCP, but we definitely share that us against them mentality already. All the security officers do. And Dr. Briggs is definitely.

not one of us. He gives us orders, after all. Anyway, Briggs says, scooting his glasses up as he pitches the bridge of his nose with two sausage fingers. What I'm trying to tell you is that I finally got approval for a series of experiments. It took much longer than it should have. And I requested the use of some robots for these little tests. But that's going to take some time. And I'm afraid they'll change their minds if I wait any longer. So we'll just have to make do with what we've got. I really have no idea what the doctor is talking about. I haven't yet read the training packets. I've been with the foundation for long enough to know that most things are common sense. If you don't do anything stupid,

you won't get killed or maimed. It's worked for me so far. But I'll ask the other guards before we start. They'll give me the rundown. So, what's the plan, I ask. We've got three Class D personnel at our disposal, Briggs says. All of them have life sentences for terrible crimes. Open and shut cases, as they say. We'll use one today, one tomorrow, and the last one on Monday when I'm back in the office. He brings his wrist up, lifting his white lab coat sleeve to glance at a watch that's biting

into his chunky arm. I feel sorry for the watchband. How about 15 minutes from now for the first one? He says, looking up at us. Can do, sir. Leroy, one of the other security guys, says. Very well. See you then. Leroy, Dmitri, and I turn around to head for the Class D holding floor while the doctor heads back to his office.

So, what's the deal here? I ask. Give me the rundown. Did you not read your paperwork yet? Dmitri says. You're supposed to do that before you even show up. I skimmed it, I say. But I find it's better to get the lowdown from people who've actually been working with the SCP. You know, instead of scientists who cower in the observation room all the time.

These scientists know their shit, Leroy says. Most of them anyway. But you know your shit too, right? I ask. Yeah, of course. Leroy says. This one's easy. As long as you're not a criminal. You're not a criminal, are you, Maxwell?

Not unless these guns are illegal, I say, lifting and flexing my arms. Neither man laughs or even smiles. Tough crowd. Seriously, man, Dmitri says. Even shoplifting a pack of gum is not good. So if you've done anything that could be considered illegal in the past six months, you need to tell Supervisor Gray immediately. Relax.

I say, I'm a law-abiding citizen. You both know how extensive foundation background checks are. I just had a new one before coming to this job. Good, Leroy says. Then you can do this first one while Dmitri and I get the cleaning supplies ready. Cleaning supplies? I say. Leroy and Dmitri smile. You really should have read your paperwork.

You're in for a surprise. Great, I say without much enthusiasm. I love surprises. You know the process of getting the D personnel out? Dmitri asks. Of course I do. I was working here while you were still in elementary school. All right, he says.

We'll see you back there. The two of them turn around and head back. I take an elevator to the D personnel holding cells and talk to the admin guy there. I wait outside while a couple of their guards go and fetch the unlucky guy that will be part of the first experiment. I've never liked dealing with D-class personnel, and the look of the guy they bring out doesn't inspire confidence. He's got a wild look in his eyes, like a cow that knows it's being funneled to the slaughter. He's also a fairly big guy, which makes me wish Leroy or Dmitri stuck with me.

But it's not like I'm going to call them for help. Hell no. I sign the paperwork the admin guy slides across to me, filling out my employee number, the SCP number, and putting Dr. Briggs' name in the appropriate spot. Then I step over to D-18-845. You good? One of the escorts says to me, I'm fine, I say.

He smiles as if to say that this one's a handful. Great. I grabbed the guy just above his left elbow, and we head out of the room. 1-8-845's wrists are handcuffed in front of him, and his feet are shackled. forcing him to take little steps. But as soon as we step out of the D-Class area, he starts to talk to me, taking even smaller steps than his chains will allow.

What's going to happen to me, man? I didn't do nothing. I'm innocent. I swear to God, I'm innocent. They lied to me when they came to me with this offer. They said I'd be able to move freely and watch TV and stuff. But I've just been locked in a cell since I got here. You've got to believe me, man.

I don't say anything to him, but he keeps talking, talking, rapid fire. His whining voice sets my teeth on edge, and I can already feel a headache forming behind my eyes. He's silent for a moment as we step into the elevator, but then he starts up again. Shut up, man, I say. Just shut up. I couldn't do anything for you, even if I wanted to. But I didn't kill those people. I didn't.

I swear. They messed up, man. I'm not supposed to be here. I said shut up. No, man, no. This is the only thing I have left. If you don't believe me, fine. But I can talk if I want. There's no rule against talking. We're alone in the elevator, which seems to embolden him. I grip his arm tighter, trying to get him to take the hint.

Ow, man, you're hurting me, he says, trying to yank his arm away. I let go of his arm, step forward, and slam my elbow into. his stomach. He doubles over, coughing. That's what happens when you don't do as you're told. He straightens up after a moment, his face red, veins bulging in his neck. He looks at me for a second, but doesn't say a word. The elevator doors open, and I take hold of his arm again. He keeps his mouth shut all the way to the observation room. Oh, good, Dr. Briggs says. Right on time. I'm ready. You can escort him into the chamber now.

I'll open the door, and you can get 1-8-845 into the room, then step out. I'll close the door once you're clear. Leroy and Dimitri stand at the corner of the room, both wearing clean room suits. They have goggles hanging around their necks and various cleaning supplies at their feet. There's also a foundation medic nearby, staring down at her phone. She stands next to a large orange medical bag. I looked through the observation window, seeing five objects in the middle of a brightly lit room. There's a grandfather clock, a pole, a printer, and two smaller objects.

There's something strange about their shadows, but I don't want it to look like I'm seeing them for the first time, so I keep moving. I'm starting to regret not reading the packet. I take 1-8-845 down the short hallway to the door, which has a window in it. I can see into the room, and I notice that the objects are casting shadows that look like people. One shadow, from the grandfather clock, looks like a medieval knight done up in armor. The shadow cast by the pole looks like a police officer. The printer casts the shadow of an ancient soldier, possibly from Rome or Greece. Please, man.

1-845 says, I didn't do anything. He's nearly crying now, and I almost believe him. But it doesn't change a thing. The door opens and I push the guy in. He moves back toward me, so I have to grab him and shove him further into the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the shadows morph and solidify. I push the guy down, then retreat back through the doorway.

The door closes. 1-8-845 jumps up and comes to the door. He starts banging on it, shouting, looking at me through the window. Beyond him, I can see the shadows as they move. But they're not shadows anymore. They're dark figures that take up three-dimensional space. They have no features that I can see, aside from those outlined by their silhouettes. There's a total of five of them from five objects in the room.

The two I didn't get a good look at appear to be another police officer and a security guard of some kind. They move toward 18845, who turns around to face them. He screams as they approach, putting his hands up over his face. I stand there, watching, wondering what they'll do to him. They close in on him, and he's still screaming. But then something strange happens. The shadow figures seem to move through him. They come through the door as if it's not there at all. Suddenly, they're in front of me, crowding in. I take two steps back and hit the wall behind me. One of the police officer swings a featureless nightstick down, smashing my left knee.

I cry out as pain erupts in the destroyed joint. The other police officer kicks my other leg, and I go down to the floor. I put my hands up, pleading with them to stop. The knight slices down with his dark sword, chopping my right hand off at the wrist. I hold the stump up in front of me, looking at it, unable to. to believe what's happening. Blood spurts out of it and onto my face, blinding me. Something thunks down on my other wrist,

and I feel the quick and sickening pain as my left hand is sliced off. Why? I cry. There is no answer. A hand yanks my right ear out, and I feel a blade slicing through it. They do the same to my left ear.

I blink the blood out of my eyes in time to see the tip of a black blade coming close. I shut my eyes again, but it does no good. The blade slices through my bottom eyelid, digging up to force my right eye out. I fall down to my side and vomit the meager contents of my stomach onto the floor. After they take my left eye, they dig into my mouth and pull my tongue out, then slice it off. Pain is everything, pain and despair. I scramble for death, trying to welcome it, searching for oblivion so my torment will end.

But it doesn't. Mercifully, though, loss of consciousness takes me. I wake up to more pain. I see nothing. I cannot speak. I'm strapped to a bed, and someone's talking to me. I think I recognize the voice. It's Dr. Briggs.

Nod if you can hear me, Maxwell, he says. I nod, waving the stump of my tongue around in my mouth experimentally. I open my lips to speak, but the only thing that is, that comes out isn't a... Ah, sound. No, no, Briggs says. Best not to speak. Just listen. I'm sure you're wondering what happened.

There's been an investigation. They've tried to fire me for this, but it's not my fault, is it? No, it's not. I hate to kick a man when he's down, Maxwell, but you have to understand why this happened. I tried to speak again, but the same pitiful sound comes out. I'm having a hard time comprehending the true state of my body

through the haze of drugs and ever-present pain. If you had read the required material, you would have known that the punishment inflicted by SCP-120 for assault is the removal of the hands, ears, eyes, and tongue. And, of course, the bludgeoning of the legs. But you didn't read the material, did you? And, on top of that, you decided to assault 18845 in the elevator. Yes, even an elbow to the stomach is considered assault, Maxwell.

Those two decisions have landed you where you are now, I'm afraid. I lean my head back down on the pillow, my mind racing. This isn't happening. It can't be. I'm good at what I do. I'm not a bad person. I'm not. Oh, and you'll be interested to know. that 18845 was left unharmed. Dr. Briggs says,

it seems that he was innocent after all. This proposes interesting possibilities for using SCP-120 in the future, although this little incident has changed protocols considerably. No longer will anyone be allowed within 10 meters of the containment cell, and robots will be used for any further experiments with D-class personnel.

You can at least take solace in that fact, Maxwell. I hear the doctor exit the room, leaving me in complete darkness and silence. I immediately start to contemplate ways in which I can kill myself. It will be difficult, especially without hands or eyes, but it won't be impossible. SCP 102 is a series of abnormal shadows belonging to a group of objects. currently in foundation custody. Each of these objects possesses the shadow of a humanoid individual dressed in a law enforcement uniform.

The objects tied to SCP 1002 do not behave in an anomalous manner, with the exception of their shadows. Said shadows are dormant and stationary until an individual who has committed what is socially considered to be a crime in the last six months comes within 10 meters of the objects that cast the shadows. cast the shadows. At this point, SCP 1002 instances will become active and manifest as a dark, humanoid figure similar in appearance to their dormant stage. SCP 1002 will then attempt to pursue

the targeted individual, going so far as to track their target through walls. If the targeted individual moves 10 meters away from the SCP 1002 instance, it will return to a dormant state at its original object. If the individual is caught by this manifestation, they will inflict a physical punishment for the crime the individual has committed. Despite the severity of this physical punishment, the victim will remain alive and conscious until taken 10 meters away from the manifestation. Through careful study, researchers have discovered punishments tied to the following crimes. Minor crimes such as littering, removal and severing of fingers. Shoplifting. Non-fatal removal of fingers, tongue, and eyes.

Burglary. Non-fatal removal of hands, ears, tongue, and eyes. Assault. Non-fatal heavy damage to the legs, removal of hands, ears, tongue, and eyes. Murder. Non-fatal removal of arms, legs, ears, tongue, and eyes. Mass murder. Non-fatal removal of arms, legs, ears, tongue, and subject is then disemboweled and, using the subject's internal organs, suspended from the ceiling of the testing chamber.