The SCP Experience - Many Winged Angel | SCP-469

Episode Date: July 24, 2023

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-469: Many Winged Angel This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-469 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Ryan Major Check out more of his work here: https://www.reddit.com/r/gtripp14/ 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

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Director Findlay asked, as I stared with disinterest at the bank of computer monitors before me. A pair of orderlies were pushing a man in a white gown down the hall toward us. He looked nervous, fingers drumming rapidly on his exposed knee. This isn't the only project I intend to review today. Radio the D-classes staff and tell them to hurry up. They are rolling him down the hallways now, sir, I replied. They should be here in less than two minutes. Director Findlay sat down at the empty metal table and propped his chin on his interlaced fingers.

I always hated it when he came down to the observation room. My favorite part about being assigned to study SCP-Force, was the fact that silence wasn't just optional. It was mandatory. 469 was a massive humanoid that spent almost all of its time wrapped in a tight ball of feathery wings. It didn't eat or drink, instead feeding off of any sound around it. It slept, for lack of a better term, almost constantly.

The floors were lined with thick carpet and sound dampening panels covered every square inch of the wall. Plexiglass of foot thick surrounded the slumbering heap of wings and feathers. It only seemed to become stimulated when a consistent source of sound was available. We tried to destroy 469 on multiple occasions through the years, but nothing was successful. Burning it to death had seemed like a good option, but the crackling flames only fed its need for sound. The feathers replicated and grew as they consumed the noise quicker than the fire could burn them away. Edged weapons weren't any more effective. Any personnel that got close enough to use the cutting instruments

were drawn into the mound, screaming in pain and feeding the beast. Acid immersion provide the same issue as the fire. As the feathers melted, they emitted a violent hiss that only satiated its need for sound. Unable to destroy it, my recommendation was finally accepted to establish some form of communication with the creature. There you are, exclaimed the director as the security hatch opened. The D-Class orderlies pushed the nervous-looking man into the room and stopped. He was thin and covered in tattoos.

His head was shaved, leaving behind only a shadow of stubbly hair. He looked toward Finley and forced a smile. How are you feeling, my friend? Have you recovered well from this surgery? Uh, yeah, he muttered, turning his eyes toward his lap. The docks did a real good job. Scars are healed up and don't hurt much anymore. What did they put inside of me?

My nurse kept saying it was classified. That being we want you to interact with has some natural defenses. Finley replied. The wings are coated in a toxin that causes an extreme amount of pain when touched. That little device Dr. Arzud implanted will release a synthetic chemical to nullify those effects. It will allow you to make physical contact with the creature without causing you any harm. The man looked relieved, but my stomach churned with anxiety. Dr. Findlay had told the man more lies than the truth.

469's feathers weren't coated in toxin. They injected it when they bit into your flesh. Not to mention that any living thing that touched the entity was drawn into the feathery mound. When I initially requested the communication trials, I explicitly stated that physical contact was a last resort, but that recommendation was ignored. No one had even bothered to tell me they developed technology that counteracted the toxin. The foundation had never been famous for providing clear information, so it shouldn't have surprised me that they continued to withhold important details.

Our directions are simple, Findley began again. These two fine gentlemen are going to escort you to the entry chamber. When the first door opens, you are to step inside and allow it to close behind you. A secondary door will open into the containment chamber. You are to approach the entity and place your hand on the wings. Leave your hand there for 30 seconds. Once we are certain the implanted device is operating correctly, you will be released and a sizable payment will be transferred to a newly established bank account in your name.

Do you have any questions? Yes, sir. Just one, he said, shaking and hunched in the wheelchair. You're really going to let me go, right? I ain't going back to prison. I guarantee you'll never see the inside of a penitentiary again, young man. Director Finley smiled at him. Gentlemen, escort our assistant to the containment entry door.

They wheeled the man through the door in the far side of the observation room. Findlay and I watched through the window as they marched across the thick carpet. stopping the wheelchair in front of the entry door. The test subject turned his head toward the orderlies and began talking, gesturing toward the door with his hands. One of the orderlies held a finger to his lips to silence him, and the man nodded his head, turning back toward the door and standing on two wobbly legs. Both orderlies passed back through the door, pushing the wheelchair and engaging the lock behind them. I pushed the red button labeled Door One on the console in front of me, and watched as the hatch lifted silently

behind the test subject. He looked over his shoulder at us through the window. The director made a shoeing motion with both of his hands and mouthed the word go to him. He reluctantly nodded again. Once he stepped inside, I punched the button again, allowing the first door to slide back into place. An indicator light above the button flashed from red to green, indicating it was securely closed. I engaged the door to button and watched the second barrier lift into the air. The man stood in the connecting compartment for a moment, and I waited anxiously for him to step forward. Finally, he stepped in, and I quickly pressed the button again, and sighed with relief as the red indicator switched back to the soothing green.

I didn't think he was going to go in, Director Finley said to no one in particular. would have been ashamed to send the orderlies to march him in. Both men stared at him with shock and disgust. Don't look at me like that, he said Snidly. D-class personnel are easy to replace. Remember that before you show a superior that level of disrespect. You're both dismissed. Sir, one of them said confused.

Don't we need to take the subject for amnestic treatment after he has completed his task? I'll handle that. Finley replied. Go now. The two men departed without another word. I sat silently, confused by the exchange. My career with the foundation spanned nearly ten years, and I couldn't recall a single instance of a facility director

performing any duties assigned to D-class personnel. Finley was no exception to that rule and had a larger disregard for entry-level personnel far beyond any director I had ever worked under. None of it made any sense. on the move, Finley said excitedly. I turned my attention back to the test subject in the containment unit. He was stepping forward, only inches at a time, toward 469. The entity was uncharacteristically nestled into the corner of the containment cell. Its feathery wings pressed against the plexiglass,

causing the usual sphere shape to warp into a strange oval. The nearest wing was still 25 feet away from the man inside, and he was barely creeping forward. Why the hell does that? doesn't he move faster? Finley growled. Turn on the microphone and tell him to hurry up. There is no speaker system, sir, I responded. Eyes locked on the subject. Everything here is designed to deny 469 access to sound waves. It would be counterintuitive.

I heard Finley take a deep breath. No doubt preparing to chastise me for my dismissive response when we both gasped. 469 moved from the corner toward the center of the room, reforming the perfect sphere of wings and feathers. others. It rolled slowly toward the man who froze in place. He had been walking barefoot on the carpet, almost certainly making no discernible noise, but somehow the entity had become aware of his presence. 469 halted only feet away and fell still once again. The man's shoulders

rose and fell rapidly. He was hyperventilating, and who the hell could blame him? We had given him next to no explanation about what he was about to see, what had looked like an inanimate pile of wings had rolled across the floor toward him without explanation. I was sure he would panic and return to the door. He didn't. Instead, he reached an unwavering hand toward the feathery sphere, fascinated. His flattened palm hovered an inch away from the tightly bald wings

as his breathing began to calm. He pressed his hand onto the wings. I was leaning forward in my seat, waiting to see if the new device worked. It didn't. The man's body began to spasm, and he threw his head back, open mouth pointed toward the ceiling. He was screaming that we couldn't hear it.

Thick cord stood out on his neck, and he thrashed violently, trying to pull his hand free. I knew the barbed feathers had already dug deep into his flesh. He wouldn't escape. Shit, I said, and turned to Finley. He looked unconcerned, slightly amused even. Research and development dropped the ball here, and now this poor son of a bitch is going to die. 469 will probably grow another 5% from this, and we haven't learned a single damn thing.

Don't be so sure, Billings, he said calmly. The device implanted in that man hasn't activated yet. Why the hell would you let him touch it without it being active? I questioned. Now he won't know if it's possible to make physical contact, useless as that would be. Finley laughed. The device doesn't know. nullify the toxins. Wait until the creature pulls the subject inside, and you'll see what it really does.

Anger boiled inside of me. Finley was famous for withholding important information, but he had never lied to me directly. Fighting back the urge to punch the old bastard, I turned back toward the containment window and the carnage on the other side. While I had been talking to the director, three wings had begun to wrap around the dying man, wrapping him in a feathery cocoon. He still thrashed about weakly, and his mouth was open in that agonized, silent scream. The wing slipped over his shoulders, and his anguished face vanished into the sphere. We sat in silence for the next five minutes, watching as the wings rippled and pulsed like a snake, swallowing prey. For the first minute or two, brief bulges would press out on the side, and I imagined the man inside, fighting and clawing

his way back to the surface. Those protrusions vanished quickly, and soon, for example, for a 469 fell docile again, resting in the center of the containment cell. Looking at the biometric scan read out on the monitor before me, I had been right. The failed experiment caused the entity to grow by another 5%. Are we done here? I said without looking at the director. I need to get facility maintenance down here and talk to them about expanding the holding area. 469 has already increased in size, and it will continue to grow over the next two to three hours. We could be looking at as much as an 8% increase when this is done.

There won't be any need for that, he replied. I heard the rustling of fabric behind me and turned my head. He pulled a small single-button remote from the inner pocket of his suit coat. The device that was planted inside of that man was a high-power explosive. This is an extermination effort, Dr. Billings. You and your research staff have toyed with us long enough, and our resources are needed elsewhere. I've taken the liberty of finalizing the operation myself.

Before I could open my mouth to argue, he pressed the button with his thumb, and the observation room rumbled. My chair tipped over, and I fell to the floor, Findlay falling hard on top of me. I struggled to push the older man off of me and scrambled to my feet, making my way to the observation window above the control console. 469 was in the center of the containment unit and a heat.

A quarter of its surface was a raw, red mess of feathers, blood, and vertebral bones. Flexa viscera slid down the plexiglass, leaving crimson trails behind it, as it made its way to the floor. Nothing in the unit moved. It appears I've done you a great service,

the director's voice proclaimed from over my shoulder. All this trouble to contain it when you could have just blown the damn thing to Kingdomcom. The biometric scanner to my side began to chirp a warning. An industrial scale had been installed beneath 469's containment unit, and it was programmed to alarm in response to rapid weight increase. I looked at the numbers on the screen, but they were increasing so rapidly I could hardly keep track.

Terrified, I returned my attention to the observation window. The mound of wings was beginning to shudder, and a defined point began to rise in the center. Dozens of massive wings expanded and lifted into the air, some still pristine while others were coated in red, blood falling like rain onto the carpeted floor. A head emerged, scaled in smaller wings as 469 stood at full height in the chamber. What the hell have you done? I asked, fixated on the entity. It had grown before,

only detectable by the biological measuring devices installed in the enclosure. But I watched as the humanoid figure expanded and slowly inched closer to the ceiling. The growth was visible without the use of machines, and I was filled with a sense of dread I had never felt before. hasn't escaped in almost a decade, but I think you just shit all over that. There was no reply. I turned to look behind me, but Director Finley was gone. His remote was dropped to the floor, and the door into the access hall remained open. Looking back toward the containment unit, I saw 469 standing at the wall nearest the window. It lifted a massive hand and wiped a long, red streak of blood across the plexiglass.

A finger extended and wrote a single word in the smear of gore. Wars. It has been two months since the attempt to destroy 469 and operations have found a new routine. The entity no longer cocoons itself in a sphere of wings. It now sits cross-legged on the floor with its hands resting on its knees. Hundreds of wings extend and flutter day and night, but otherwise, the entity remains completely still. The final growth was a total increase of 35% and plans are underway to move 469 to a large enclosure. There is no estimated date for transfer due to its new state of rest. For the entirety

of its containment, it had always remained in the spherical shape when not active. We have not yet decided how to safely move the entity. All research is currently on hold. Security personnel are now assigned to the observation room around the clock. Efforts to communicate with 469 have officially been denied by Director Finley and the O5 Council. It doesn't matter though. Communication, while brief was a success anyway, thanks to Finley. The single word it wrote, Moors. I looked it up immediately after the incident. It's Latin, but it has a few meanings.

The first option I found made sense. It means depart. Maybe 469 is asking to leave. I think it's probably option two, though. It seems more likely considering what Finley did to it. The second meaning? Death. SEP 469.

is a Ketare class anomaly. The entity is a sphere comprised of wings, cocooning in its center is a humanoid being that remains in the fetal position when inactive. The outside of the sphere is comprised of white-feathered wings. Previous X-rays have shown the wings are linked through vertebral bones rather than the long, hollow bones often associated with avian wings.

While the outer sphere measures approximately 30 feet in diameter and weighs in at several tons, the humanoid creature inside stands nearly 20 feet, feet tall and has a body covered in smaller wings protecting it, similarly to scale male armor. The creature feeds exclusively on sound, which causes it to increase in mass, but seems to enjoy musical or melodic vibrations, especially those of bells or chimes. Physical contact with a living creature will cause the needle-pointed wings to dig into flesh and secrete a painful stimulant, causing agonized screams of pain, which will allow SCP-469 to feed

grow as the offending creature is drawn inside of the sphere.