The SCP Experience - I Am The Trapped | SCP-1461

Episode Date: April 11, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-1461: I Am The Trapped This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1461, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com 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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Shane bangs on the brick wall in the doorway, shouting insanity. Buckley crouches in the corner of the damp room, trying and retrying to reach someone over the radio. Liza stares at me. Her fingernails digging into my biceps as she squeezes my arms. What do we do? She cries. I look around, shifting my gaze between the three members of my team. Confusion is paramount in my mind, and it's trying its very best to stoke my panic. The room we've been working in for weeks has suddenly changed, and I can come up with no logical

explanation for it. Science is based on repeated, controllable actions and the consequent events. And for 80 years, there have been no recorded anomalous events in this part of the manner. I guess 80 years isn't long enough to come to a conclusion. Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I look back down at Liza. Let go of me, I tell her in a soft, calm voice. Her eyes are bouncing around the room, like a child's rubber ball in a room full of antiques. Liza, I say, a little more forcefully, but still calm. Let go of me.

Pull yourself together. Her eyes stop careening around the room and start focusing on me. They lose some of their manic quality, and she lets go of my arms. Her short, dark hair falls from behind her ears as she looks down at her pale hands, as if she wasn't aware of what they were doing. Hey, Shane, I call. Knock it off, man. Come over here. I say it like he's being completely unreasonable, even if he's not.

He turns, looking over his shoulder at me. Blood, he says, gesturing at the brick wall where there was once a doorway. But what? Is banging on it? and shouting going to change it back to a doorway? A shameful look descends on Shane's plump face. His dark skin going a shade darker with embarrassment. Now I turn my attention to Buckley, who seems to sense it.

He stands up from his crouch, shaking his head. I've tried every channel. Nothing's working. I can't tell if Buckley was freaking out like the others or not. He's one of those people that doesn't show much emotion. Maybe crouching in the corner and speaking softly into the radio was freaking him out. If it was, he came out of it fast. He walks over to the center of the large room to join the rest of us.

His long legs making quick work of it were in what we think of as an observation room. It is one of three studies in the English Manor, a manner known as SCP 1461. Although built in the late 19th century, the Gothic architecture and design, or more reminiscent of homes built two centuries before, The dark wood panel walls seem to suck the light out of the room, of which there is little. The windows have inexplicably turned to brick, the same brick that the exterior of the house is made from. Now the only light comes from the modern lamps we have placed around the room. The only furniture is what the foundation brought inside, which entails several utilitarian desks topped with computers and monitoring equipment,

desk chairs to go along with the desks, one leather couch, and two cars. off in the corner. While the room we're in is technically part of SCP 1461, there has never been any recorded anomalous activity in the two stories of the manner proper. Instead, it's the 12 sub-levels that are what the foundation has been studying since the 1940s. Unfortunately, we haven't been on the job long, and we haven't caught any particularly noteworthy anomalous events during our time working in observation. Okay, I say as we all gather in the center of the room near the couch. Let's discuss what we know. Something weird is going on, Liza says. Yes, well, maybe something a little left obvious and a little more analytical,

I say. Everything went black, Shane says. And I felt very strange. I don't know how long it lasted. It seemed like it was both very quick and very long at the same time. Then the lights came back on, and there were bricks over the windows in the doorway. He pauses, looking at each of us. Is that what you all experienced? Yes, Buckley says. But it wasn't like the lights just went out. It was like a darkness smothered them,

and then lifted again when it was done, doing whatever it was doing. Liza nods, still looking freaked out, but holding it together. I decide not to tell them what I saw. Not yet. I still don't know if it was. anything more than a figment of my imagination. But it wasn't just black for me. It was as if I was in a vast, featureless landscape, a heavy mist everywhere. But something was coming through the mist. Okay, I say, everyone check your phones, see if you have a signal. It doesn't take long

for us to check. No service, no internet, nothing. Right, well, let's try the hidden passageway, I say, we need to get out of here. We can't just wait. There's a hidden passageway in here, Shane says. I had no idea. Me neither, Buckley says. Liza just looks at me, suspicion in her eyes. There are plenty of things team leaders know that you don't, I tell them. That's why we're team leaders. I walk over to a panel on the wall, moving one of the cots out of the way to get to it. It's a panel that looks like any other, about four feet wide by eight feet tonne. all. After feeling along it for a minute, I locate the release button, which is a smoothed down knot in the wood. I can just barely feel the edges of the button with my fingertips. I press

it, and the panel swings out on hidden hinges, revealing an opening that's slightly smaller than a normal doorway. It's open, Shane says. There's no bricks. We're in business, Buckley says. But where does it go? It leads to another study, the one across from the library, I say. Is it a good idea that all of us go? Liza says. Maybe someone should stay here, just in case?

I won't make anyone go who doesn't want to. Anyone want to stay here? I'll stay, Liza says. Just come back and get me if you find a way out. Of course. Bring your sidearms, I tell the men. I'm already wearing my gun, but the other two aren't. We're researchers, not security operatives.

But we've all had basic weapons training. Once they have their guns, we head toward the passage. I check my phone for service again, seeing that it still has none. I turn on the flashlight feature and tell Liza to keep the panel open. She says she will. I head into the dark, damp passageway first, followed by Shane and Buckley. As soon as we're all in, the panel slammed shut on us. What the hell?

Buckley says, turning around. He bangs on the wood, shouting for Liza to open it again. Wait, stop. I say. Listen. He stops, and the three of us stand there, listening. There's a very faint voice, but it certainly doesn't belong to Liza, and it doesn't sound like it's coming from beyond the wood panel. I squeeze past Shane and then Buckley, shining my light on the catch that will open the panel. I lift the little metal piece up, and the panel swings open to reveal a dark,

unfinished room filled with an array of greasy cogs and complex machinery. The steady grind of these moving components is a low rumble. What the fuck? Buckley says from behind me. This isn't possible, I say. This room was cataloged as being on sub-level 12. Twelve? Shane says.

No one has been down there for years. A piercing metallic shriek comes from behind us in the passageway, causing all three of us to flinch and look that way. Somehow, the passage has changed behind us, where moments before it went six feet. feet to a dog-like turn, it now runs straight for as far as we can see. Dimmed flickering lights placed at irregular intervals illuminate sweating pipes that run along the ceiling. The shriek comes again, and I realize it's coming from a pipe that terminates near us.

The pipe is open because it's part of a series of speaking tubes throughout the sub-levels of the SCP. The faint sound of slapping footsteps echoes down the hallway toward us. I look, squinting my eyes. Figure flashes through a pool of light way down the tunnel, moving fast. Something's coming, Shane says. Something's coming fast! A humanoid figure flashes through a closer pool of light. The illumination reflects off shiny metallic objects in the figure's hands. I back up into the gear room, and Buckley does the same.

Shane just stands there, staring down the hallway as the thing gets closer. Shane, move! I call. He snaps out of it and moves into the room. As I close the door, which is somehow now an actual door, I catch a glimpse of the figure as it speeds towards us. It's wearing rags, its skin is pale, with long, black hair. I can't tell what it's holding in its hands, but I'm fairly certain it's human, even if it is running faster than any human can. The door latches, but there's no lock. I back away from it, certain that the person will be able to open it and hunt us down.

There's a hallway. says. I look left and see that there is a dark hallway leading out of the gear room. Something slams into the other side of the door, grabbing my attention back. I look at the knob, expecting it to turn, but it doesn't. The grinding hum of the gears behind me is steady. Look out! Buckley screams. I sense movement and whip my head left just in time to see a man with savage-looking metal claws for hands slamming into Shane, sending him flying backward into a set of huge gears. Shane half-turned, as he stumbles backward, putting his left hand out reflexively to break his fall. But by doing so, he puts his hand right into the moving gears.

They suck him in quickly, crunching down on his arm, as Shane screams for about two seconds before his upper body and head are pulled in. Blood spews out as his bones and flesh are crushed. The man with a claw hands turns toward Buckley and me. He's not the same one that was running down the hall toward us. This one is shorter, with a severely scarred bald head. As he moves, he opens his mouth. A scratchy voice comes out, but the man's lips don't move. It's as if the voice is coming from some mechanism inside of his body. I am evil and I am flesh.

I am the trap. I am the trapped. I am beauty and I am chaos. The voice says, I bring my gun up and shoot the man several times in the chest, stopping the words and knocking him to the ground. I don't know if he's dead, but I'm not going to wait around and find out. Let's go, I say. Buckley and I run down the dark hallway leading out of the room. There's only one way to go, and it's through a pair of double doors, which lead into a dark room.

My phone's flashlight has gone off, and the room is unlit, but it feels cavernous. I turn my flashlight feature back on and shine it ahead, revealing a warehouse-like area with crates labeled factory deliveries. As I swing the flashlight around, I see a familiar face come looming out of the darkness. Liza? I say, returning the light to shine on her face where she stands, about ten yards to our left, behind a couple of wooden crates. Liza, what happened? Buckley asks. Are you okay? She looks at us with disinterested eyes, her jaw hanging slack. Buckley moves over toward her, and I follow behind. Her eyes follow us as we move. Are you all right? Buckley says, stepping around the crates to approach her.

Another metallic shriek fills the air. coming from somewhere above us. I look up, shining the light at the ceiling, but I see nothing. As I bring it back down, I hear a terrible wet, cracking sound. Shining the light on the crates again, I find that Liza is gone, and so is Buckley. But that sound... I step around the crates, shining the light at the floor. Liza straddles Buckley.

Her arms, which were hidden by the crates, have no hands at the end of them. Her left wrist ends in a series of moving metal teeth, attached to a complicated mechanism. She has these teeth pressed against the side of Buckley's head, and then removing his skin and hair, shredding it off his skull like cheese off a block. Her right wrist ends in a pair of side-by-side plier-like appendages that she pulls out of Buckley's bloody mouth as I watch, ganking to remove the bulk of his tongue.

Buckley spasms underneath her, his arms flailing weakly. Another shriek comes from the ceiling, and Liza whips her head toward me. Whatever is making that noise seems to be communicating with these creatures, telling them to attack us. I turn and run, going deeper into the warehouse, dodging crates as my light picks them out. I still have my gun in my right hand, but I must put it away to open a door I come across. I yank open the door and step through, only to find that there's no floor. I fall, letting go of my phone and my panic. The light spins around as the phone falls with me, but it does nothing to illuminate anything.

No walls, no ground rushing up at me, no anything, just blackness. And suddenly I'm on a flat, featureless plane. I'm standing still, no longer falling. There's no sign of my phone. A heavy mist hangs all around. There's a dim light that doesn't seem to have a single source. The ground under my feet is like no substance I've ever seen. It looks and feels like a combination of tar, clay, and moss.

I recognize the place from when this all started, from when the blackness descended on us back in the observation room. And just like in my vision, there's something moving toward me through the mist, something massive. The ground rumbles as it approaches. At first, it's just a darker patch in the mist, but as it grows closer, I can start to make out its features. It's as big as a three-story mansion, but round. Its skin looks like sweating iron and hard. copper but moves like the skin of a worm. And that's just what it is. I realize as it moves swiftly toward me like a speeding train. It's a giant worm. A featureless mouth opens as it grows closer. A terrible shrieking, grinding roar emanates from its mouth. Its breath is foul like chemicals and rotting flesh. The ground shakes as if from an earthquake as the worm rears up and turns its

gaping maw toward me. And as its mouth comes rushing down to take me, I can see that that it has no teeth, only a million grinding, gnashing gears, all serving some purpose I cannot hope to comprehend. As the mouth slams down around me, the gears bang for the lubrication my blood will provide, I realize I'm nothing more than an appetizer. SCP 1461 is an English manner with attached sub-levels. The surface portion of SCP 1461 is a two-level dwelling, with 12 bedrooms, four baths, three studies, a main foyer slash ballroom, a library, a kitchen, and a pantry basement. Foundation staff have reinforced the structure and used the available space to house

monitoring rooms and security forces. No anomalous activity has ever originated from the manor itself. The sub-level facilities are accessible through the manor's basement. The layout and size of the sub-level facilities have yet to be accurately measured, due to the anomalous qualities of the facility and hostile entities within. The facility is constructed primarily from concrete, iron, and brass, but also a number of exotic and or unknown materials. The layout of the facility follows illogical routes and architecture. For example, doorways open onto solid walls or open chasms, stairwells ascend into empty space. The sub-level facilities are extremely hazardous, with an extensive array of moving mechanical apparatuses,

gearworks, pistons, steam pipes, and coolant tubes that lack appropriate safety measures. SCP 1461 contains approximately 57 humanoid entities designated as SCP 161-1. These entities, through an unknown process, have been augmented with crude mechanical implants in an as-yet-undiscovered section of SCP 1461. The majority have been augmented with metallic teeth and claw-line. like protrusions on their hands, giving them lethal close quarters combatability. All instances of SCP 1461-1 are considered extremely hostile. At least four of these instances have received additional augmentation,

replacing their esophagus and lungs with a phonograph device powered by the instances' own motions. These phonographs emit a constant, repeating stream of speech, peppered with religious symbolism, but have provided no clues as to to its creator or purpose. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-moyance-moyerned 15 minutes. We're like it's the dojo.

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