The SCP Experience - Red Ice | SCP-009

Episode Date: February 10, 2023

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-009: Red Ice This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-009 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Lucas Click Check out the Author'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

My life changed six months ago. It started with a bank job gone wrong and a betrayal by a man I once considered a brother. While I limped through the woods, on the run for my life, I fell into a stream. After emerging from the water, I discovered that I was immortal. No matter my body's fatal injuries, it always patches itself back together. For six months, I've endured every injury known to man. I've had my neck broken, been shot in the head, and hit by a truck, to quote an old annoying song. I get knocked down, but I get up again.

Sometimes it's fast, sometimes it's slow, but it always works. But man, am I really getting tired of this shit? You see, I wasn't the only one that took a dip in the fountain of youth that day. Johnny, the Judas I mentioned earlier, caught up with me after plugging a few holes in me. With no weapon on me and not realizing the full powers of the water, I beat and then drowned that junkie scum. But he came back too. The effects were permanent.

And so, Johnny and I have been locked in an eternal, undying conflict ever since. Well, I guess that's wrong. There's been a lot of deaths between us over the last six months. It's just that none of them managed to stick. In truth, most of the money from our last score is gone. We've spent it fleeing across the country in our immortal game of cat and mouse. I can't say what the motivations are for Johnny, but it's become personal for me. This grudge match won't stop until one of us is somehow dead from good.

That might be impossible, but it hasn't stopped us from getting creative. That's why I trudged my numb ass across the frozen Alaskan wilderness. I've been able to track Johnny down to a remote cabin in the woods. Even with the heavy layers of winter gear wrapped around my body, my legs lost all feeling after every step on the cracking ice. Not that it matters much. I can't freeze to death either. And revenge is a hell of a motivator.

Through the crystalline trees, a glimmer grows against the darkness. Pressing closer, my breath comes out in a heavy fog of anticipation as I rest against a nearby tree. Sure enough, there's Johnny's new SUV in the dim glow of the cabin. I got a good look at it when Johnny turned me into a smear of red asphalt when I was crossing the street in Chicago. Payback's a bitch, motherfucker. The thought sends a spark of warm anticipation through my body.

I stalk toward the cabin, moving as quietly as possible. No small task as every step plunges my feet into several. several inches of frozen snow. I worry about the noise, snow and ice crunch with each step, but Johnny has never been very observant. The bastard won't see me coming so long as I keep cool. I'm just a few feet from the cabin and hear the music blasting in the frigid air. The same honky-tonk crap that Johnny has always been fond of. His piercing off-key melody jumps past the chorus. The lyrics are about tractors and the moonlight or some other red, I peel off my gloves, kneading the dexterity that they're blocking.

The cold only takes a moment to wrap around my fingers like a hungry python. I came prepared for this too, unwrapping the chemical warmers. I slather them on my hands and flex my fingers as the warmth momentarily floods back into them. The shield against the cold will only be good for a few seconds. It's now or never. into my backpack. I pull out the last thing I purchased with the scant remnants from the bank score. With immediacy now more important than secrecy, I bolt the final short distance to the

cabin, pulling the pin from the grenade. Using my momentum, I slam my fist through the window. Fresh blood sends another spasm of much-needed warmth to my hand. Johnny looks up at me, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. I smile and lock the grenade at him, and the former base Baseball champ catches it on reflex. Fire in the hole, motherfucker. Chani looks down at what he's holding. Ah, shit. Flash of light, and force cuts him off and knocks me off my feet.

Cold engulfs me again, and it takes a few moments to pull myself out of the snowdriff. I pick out the chunks of glass and wood embedded in my skin. But the cuts on my hand have already healed. I make my way toward the cabin. The windows and door have been blown open, and the single large room inside is a complete disarray of shattered junk, including Johnny's corpse. His arms and the legs are blown off.

Where his chest should be, there's nothing but a shattered cabin of broken bones and ruptured organs. His jaw has been completely obliterated, but the stupid look of surprise is still in his vacant eyes. The cabin is a war zone, but the fireplace is still piping hot. I stand before the jumping embers, warming my hands back up. When Johnny's body starts to stir, I take out my gun, empty an entire clip into his head, and then start looting the place.

Like I said, there's not much of the score left. If Johnny had any money lying around, it probably went up in smoke with the rest of him. Instead, I walk over to his corpse and empty his pockets. His wallet only has a few 20s, which I take out of spite, but his key fob has survived the blast. I click one of the buttons, and the SUV beeps outside. Thanks for the ride, John. It's been real. I leave Johnny and head back outside. The grenades did a real number on him, but I doubt it's enough to finish him off.

Maybe if I had a few more. It will take time for him to pull himself back together to do another score. Enough time to buy a whole crate of grenades and shove them down the bastard's throat. The thought makes me smile as I trudge toward the SUV. The window shatters before I hear the gunshot. Swearing, I spin. With the snow trips me up, making me move in slow motion. Two more shots in pain buries itself deep in my back.

The familiar torrent of fresh hot blood pours from my body, standing the red ice before I collapse into a heap of frozen death. Hey, Larry, been an age, hasn't it? It can't be. Johnny's standing there, completely healed. It doesn't make any sense. Yeah, our body starts to stitch back together as soon as the injuries start. But it's not instantaneous.

I should have been in the car and miles away before he had regrown his shattered limbs. Man, Johnny smiles. I miss that stupid look on your face. I always thought you were the brains of the outfit, didn't you, Lair? I grunt despite the pain, hoping to keep him talking while my body patches itself up. To be fair, it was always a pretty low bar. Johnny points his pistol at me and unloads. More of my blood spills on the ground with every spasm of pain.

His gun clicks empty, so he reloads before opening fire again. A son of a bitch is going out of his way to miss my vital organs, refusing to give me a break and let me die for a moment. asshole never could take a joke. You just keep sitting there bleeding, Larry. He picks up the discarded key and pops the hood of the SUV. I still owe you for chopping my head off. The blood trails from my body, leaving me in a sludge of red and white.

Steam rises in the air as my blood crystallizes, freezing me in place. The cold grips me tighter from the lack of blood and the tattered remains of my winter gear. Licking my lips, I look for any moisture and debate between trying to stay conscious or succumbing to blood loss. Figure were more than even for that, I spit out. With you hitting and running me like you did? Johnny squats down. That wasn't me.

I frown at him. What the fuck is he talking about? Of course it was him. I saw him through the windshield in the brief moment I clung to the hood. I heard him cackling like a hyena when he backed over me and grounded my body to paste. Johnny always had a taste for meth and sometimes harder shit. Had the junk finally warped his mind? Before I can ask him, something glimmers in the moonlight.

The hack saw in Johnny's hand is brand new. I reach for his eyes, but I'm too weak to put up a fight. Johnny pins me into the ice and starts working the saw back and forth. The searing agony grows stronger as the blade slowly works through my skin, muscle, tendon, And finally, I scream while Johnny laughs and yanks my hand for my wrist. I stop blubbering, you fucking pussy. It'll grow back. He traces the bloody saw down my body, resting it against my thigh. Got some time before my partner's ready to talk with you. You're going to love him, the closest thing to a brother I ever had. My body spits out the bullets and

starts closing the holes. Enough of my blood has been replenished, and I'm in no immediate danger of dying, then Johnny starts on my leg. The pain is even worse than my arm. Johnny drags the bloody task out, going slow and steady as the saw rifts through my leg. I nearly pass out, but the bastard shoves a needle into my chest. The adrenaline pumps through me, feeding me with liquid fire. But there's only so much I can do with one leg in one hand. My attempts to fend off Johnny only make him laugh while he saws through my other leg. The agony is so intense that I black out, despite the adrenaline. A hard blow across my face knocks some teeth loose and brings me back to consciousness.

I don't know how much time has passed. My legs are still gone. The stump of my arm has fused, closed, but it's still a long way from growing back my hand. Every breath of cold air is a knife in my lungs. Sweat runs down my brow before freezing against my skin. It's too hard to open my eyes. What the hell? You shot my ride. Johnny says and continues. He was making a run for it. I missed the first time I plugged him.

How could you miss from here? I wouldn't have made that shot, no problem. Yeah, I doubt that. And what the hell? You chopped him up already. You were supposed to wait for me. Settled down, I left you his arms. Well, most of the same.

them anyway. Jesus Christ, I grow. The sound of Johnny's voice and his weird puppet act makes the pain even more excruciating. Quit talking to yourself, you fucking junkie psycho. Johnny starts laughing in stereo. His familiar cackle sounds like it's coming from two different mouths. It makes me curious enough to fight through the pain. My eyelids open with a crack, breaking the film of ice that is frozen over them. My vision clears into the impossible. There are two of him standing there, each a mirror image of the other. Johnny doesn't have a twin. No, he's an only child.

And I've worked with twins before. Even if they start out identical, by the time you get to our age, too many lifestyle changes make them stand out as individuals. One twin takes a few more trips to the drive-through and develops a gut, while the other hits the bottle too hard, yellowing his skin, shit like that. But I'm staring at a fucked-up parent trap. What the fuck? Yeah, cutting my head off was the worst thing you could have done.

One Johnny says, Highlander rules don't apply. We're more like worms. The other says. Yeah, but badass worms. Johnny squats down before me again. Or I guess this Johnny is doing it for the first time. His hair is still singed from the grenade.

See, while my body grew back my new head. The other head started growing a new body. Yeah, talk about it, bitch. Johnny Number 2 smiles. That took months of work. Imagine it. Looking down and watching your skeleton and organs grow back. You can't imagine the pain.

Oh, I think he'll have an excellent idea of it pretty soon. Johnny Number 1 walks to the SUV and comes back with an axe in each hand. You know what they say? Two axes are better than one. Yeah, but not two assholes. I spit and cough out blood. Get it over with. I'm sick of all the terrible pun.

The axe swings down into my shoulder, and my scream rips through the end of my witty retort. The other Johnny, not content with severing my legs, joins in. The two work together in tandem. One swinging high, the other low. My limbs are hacked away, and then they start working on the rest of my body.

They rain in their blows, making the cuts shallow. waiting for them to heal before starting over. My freshly replenished blood spills over and over in the snow, coating my vision red. All right, Johnny one or two says. I'm in so much pain I can't keep them straight. I think he's had enough.

The other Johnny hacks a glob of phlegm in my eyes. Nothing's enough for this fucker. But yeah, my arms are getting tired. You remember the matches? I teeter on the edge of death when something splashes against. my face. Gagging, I spit out the foul liquid, but then I recognize the smell. Gasoline. It's assaulting me. The fumes engulfed the air, making each of my breaths burning in bloody coughs. See, we put our heads together, Larry. Christ, not another fucking pun. And we think we've finally

found a way to make sure you stop coming back. There's a flicker of flame from his fingers, lighting up his crooked smile. Fire in the hole, motherfucker. The flame flickers in the air, igniting the fumes before it lands. Fire rushes over me, immediately wiping away the cold with hell on earth. My scream dies instantly as the coals fill my lungs.

My skin melts before blackening into ash. A loud pop fills my ears. And when I go blind, I realize it's my eyes. Shoot and brought some marshmallows. It's the last thing I'm going to be. I hear before everything goes black. Lasagne sur-surellied, puissance-moyance-molyne

for 15 minutes. We'd say that's the hour dojo. Pre-a-to-Jew! Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo! The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-ass-a-sou and the game of casino

in direct. Profite of 50 tours on Big Bas-Bonanza. Without exigance of misgents and with payments instantane. Hey! I've gained!

Woo-hoo! Sonture the pleasure! Play-O-Jo! 18-8-0-1-1-2-L-Cli-TUUKKKKV-TUroups $10-Rat-Rat-Bus Big Bas-Bas Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10. Veye to be in a fashion responsible.

The conditions apply. Cold. It's all-encompassing. So fucking cold. Clinging and spreading across the frozen expanse. Trying to escape from the cold. I feel warmth nearby. A group of animals huddled together,

protecting themselves against the frozen waste. I reach out toward their warmth and engulfed them. They die screaming. But as they do, their warmth floods and dills. me. I remember what they're called. Rabbits. But it's not enough.

It's still too damn cold. I need more heat. I spread out, looking for more, and find a large group of predators sleeping through the worst of the cold. Bears, I remember, as I press onto them. The apex predators die roaring and swinging, but they can't touch me. My presence swallows their resistance. Their body heat springs red spears of light through their bodies before encasing them.

For the first time in their lives, they know fear. They know what it feels like to be utterly helpless against a merciless foe. They died like I did. I remember who I am, or who I was. My name is... was... Larry. I was a criminal. Johnny, those sons of bitches murdered me.

Bitches murdered me. I might not have a body anymore, but I'm not exactly dead. In my fury, I reach out for a pack of fleeing wolves, sweeping down on them like a plague. They die hellen, their frozen blood making me stronger. The last wolf dies like I did, alone, is killer laughing. My killers, Johnny, those rat bastards. Shit, what the fuck is going on? The familiar voice snaps me back to my reality. Just the thought of them brings them back to me. The charred, skeletal remains of my former body

are cooling in the melted and bloody snow at their feet. But I'm not just there. I'm in every particle of red snow. In the lifeless snow spread for miles. I'm even clinging to the fragment of my blood in the air. And I grow stronger as my consciousness spreads. A red tide standing the pure snow as I surround the cabin. I focus on the Johnny's as they head to the SUV.

No, I won't let them escape. I cling to the snow at their feet. They don't notice the red sheen on their boots as they climb inside and lock the doors. One of the Johnny's sticks the key in the ignition, and the SUV roars to life. A wave of heat pumps in through the vents, and I feel myself growing stronger. Both Johnny's scream as the red crystals, as I pierced to lift deep. I climb up their legs, thrusting more spikes through their flesh. They fumble out of the car, and as they do, I feel my grip on them slacken.

I collapse into a puddle of red liquid in the snow. They run back toward the cabin, but there's nowhere to hide. I'm the very snow that they trap across in their mad dash for safety. No, more than that. I can feel part of myself inside them. Not just on their clothes, but in the blood as well. They rush into the cabin, not realizing that they've taken me with them. One of the Johnny's picks up an automatic rifle from the bed and starts firing into the red ground,

into me from the doorframe. It's pointless. Pain is no longer something I recognize. Only rage and my desire for revenge. Shit! The other Johnny flops on the bed as I reach his heart. and spread through his veins. He wipes sweat from his forehead.

Why is it so fucking hot? The sweat soaks his body, coating him with my essence. Without the cold, I spread even faster. Coursing through his body, solidifying into jagged shards that erupt from his skin. Johnny screams are cut short as I sprout a red crystal through his throat. The other Johnny swears and bolts out into the cold.

Let him run. I'll find him. He's marked the same as this one. There's no place they can escape from me now. My red essence solidifies as it spreads over Johnny, encasing his entire body in a cube of crimson ice. No longer able to scream, Johnny's thoughts race as he panics.

I can hear him as if he's speaking. His addled brain tries to calm himself, assuring him that his double will return with some plan on releasing him. Oh, come on Johnny. Would you come back for him? He's saving his ass the same as you would. Johnny's thoughts stopped before forming one single question.

Larry? That's right, Johnny, boy. Better make yourself comfortable because you're not going anywhere. But don't worry, your doppelganger will be joining you soon enough. SEP9 is a substance that superficially resembles distilled water, except with a distinct bright red hue. This red hue is discernible in all. phases and serves as the most expedient method of identifying contaminated matter before its anomalous

properties manifest. In contrast to mundane water, SCP9 assumes a liquid phase at temperatures between 100 degrees Celsius and 0 degrees Celsius, and a solid state above those temperatures. At temperatures below 100 degrees Celsius, SCP-9 vaporizes into a gaseous phase similar to steam. Examinations of the atomic structure of SCP-9 have proved inconclusive. The substance appears to be identical to normal water molecules. Experts on xenospatial physics suggest that SCP-9 may originate in a universe with alternate physical laws. However, the most hazardous property of SCP-9 is its ability to contaminate normal H-2O. When in contact with any aqueous solution, SCP-9 will, through our own.

unknown mechanisms, transfer its anomalous properties to other objects and creatures. Testing has shown that it is capable of assimilating ice, steam, tea, fruit juice, seawater, and blood. The time it takes for this process to occur varies depending on temperature and the exact chemical composition of the affected matter.