The SCP Experience - Smoke and Spores | SCP-020

Episode Date: August 12, 2022

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-020: Smoke and Spores This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-020, 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. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Oh, baby, come to Papa. Keller practically drools as he runs his hands over the flamethrower. As a former serial killer and arsonist, it's rare that he would get to use a tool that matches his former trade on one of our operations. The distaste I share with him is matched with the other member of mobile team Eta Ten sitting at the table. Petrovah doesn't say anything. She can't because of the jagged scar across her throat.

Yet the promise of violence casts a shimmer in her eyes that matches Keller's excitement as she sharpens her knives. I do my best to ignore them as I check the magazine on my assault rifle. Sergeant Carter tells me they will fill the rest of the team with former soldiers like myself someday. But the foundation can't be picky, and the mobile units have jobs that cater to a specific skill set. Hence the former Russian mercenary

and a serial killer on our team. Oh, baby, oh baby, oh baby, oh baby. Keller says again as he fawns over the flamethrower, then drapes his body over it like it's a lost lover. He lets out a longing sigh. Ah, soon, I will feed you to the world. Knock it off, I snapped at him. We need to be ready to go at a moment's notice.

Whatever you say, Captain America. Keller fires off a mock salute. Then he and Petrovah share a knowing grin. I'm the second in command of the unit and the youngest on the team. Sergeant Carter is the only one that can keep these two psychos in line. They humor me because they know I'll report any breaks and protocol to the Sarge. Carter is getting on in years, but he can still throw a boot up the ass with the best of them. Edit 10, do you copy?

The Sarge's voice bursts through the radio, calm and collected, despite the barrage of gunfire in the background. I snatch up the walkie. Edit 10, loud and clear, Sarge. We zip up our jumpsuits and place the breather masks over our heads. I sling the assault rifle over my back as Petrovah helps Keller strap the flamethrower onto his back. We hurry out of the hotel and into the exterminator's van. Petrovah hops behind the wheel, and Keller and I jump in the back.

The van offers enough cover for the racks of weapons and explosives in the back. Petrovah tears down the road, the van moving faster than it should with all the added cars. We zip through town, cutting off the small town traffic. We veered off to one of the country roads off to the side. Pavement makes way for gravel that kicks up clouds of dirt in our wake as we floor past. The gunfire becomes louder as we pull up near the old country farmhouse. A cluster of nearly a dozen people surrounds the front house of the farm. Their ages and builds are sporadic, the oldest over 70, and the youngest fresh out of high school.

Several dead bodies lay at their feet, and each is armed with an arsenal as varied as the shooters, shotguns, rifles, pistols, and even the occasional AR-15. Petrovah jerks the van into a skid that nearly knocks Keller to the ground, but puts the van parallel to the shooters and gives us cover. Half of the militia turned toward us and open fire while the others keep shooting at the farmhouse. There's something precise and mechanical about their motions. I've never seen trained soldiers respond with some. such precision. Bullets pelt the van. The reinforced metal and glass stop the bullets from penetrating

the van. We exit the van and rush behind it for cover. Keller is useless with his flamethrower at this range. So Petrovai and I take up positions on each side of the van. We take turns peeking our heads out to the side and send bursts of bullets into the firing line. With no cover and the serge firing from the ranch, it's not long until the last of the attackers is cut down. Oh yeah! Keller whoops and charges forward. Fire whooshes out from his flamethrower. Flames eagerly lick up the first corpse before engulfing the bodies and transforming them

into charred skeletons. I march up to Keller and wait until he finishes his little performance. He lowers the flamethrower's nozzle, and I spin him by the shoulder and use my fist to wipe the shitting grin off his face. He goes down hard on top of the flamethrower, and I stop my foot into his chest. I press the barrel of my rifle to his forehead, then feel the cold steel of Petrovah's blade pushed to my throat. That's enough, God damn it. The serge's harsh tone is angrier than the raging flames.

All of you stand down. Petrovah is the first to respond and pulls the knife away from my throat. I take my time in removing my foot from Keller's chest and take some juvenile glee in seeing the imprint of my size 12 on his jumpsuit. Keller shuffles back and forth like a turtle on his back, but finally gets up to his deep. knee. He spits blood and shoots daggers at me. What the fuck was that for? Your orders were not to use that thing until given clearance from me or the Sarge. I glare at him. He's right, Keller. The Sarge jerks his thumb. You and Petrovus secure the perimeter. Now. The Sarge waits for the other two to walk off before he turns to me. He sighs and places a hand on my shoulder. I know, but we need them both for

this one more than ever. Come inside and I'll debrief you. The farmhouse's thermostat has been turned all the way to the right and I'm tempted to pull off my mask and wipe my brow. But the Sarge said to keep it on at all times, and like Petrovah and Keller, I follow his orders. The living room has been ripped apart by bullets, and in the corner are the dead researcher and investigator in charge of the site. The militia get them? I asked. No, I did, Sarge said. He says, poor bastards went native. Not that they had much choice. He pulls out the dead researcher's phone and flips on its camera. He shows us as he scans it around the room.

The walls are pockmarked with dark green mold, thicker than the ancient shag carpet soaked with blood. Except for the bullet holes, there's no sign of any damage to the wall. Tricky shit, Sarge says. It can only be seen through a camera. The fucking gunk could spread through the whole town. the whole town, and no one would be the wiser. I blink. The hostels.

Did they show up after you killed these two? He nods. As soon as these two tried to off me, the locals showed up on the doorstep and opened fire. It looks like we're dealing with some sort of hive intelligence. Keller groans, and for once, I agree with them. Hive minds are the worst nightmare you can imagine. It's so easy to confuse friends with foes, and what appears to be a non-combatist. becomes a violent hostel with the flip of a switch.

Keller stifles his groan after a stern look from the Sarge. We're going house to house, search and destroy protocols. With any luck, this thing hasn't spread to the entire town. Sergeant Carter's voice doesn't fill me with confidence. Mobile task forces aren't usually called in unless the worst case scenario is likely. We each reload our weapons, and the Sarge nods to Keller. Torch it. Keller smiles and eagerly starts his work,

spraying the bodies with flames as we make our way outside. We pull away in the van. The farmhouse Inferno fades rapidly in the rearview mirror. We pull up to the first house in the suburbs. A nice cookie cutter two-floored home, the same as the rest on the block, except for the red paint job. Sergeant Carter takes the lead and heads up to the door,

the rest of us on his flank. He holds up the camera to the door frame. Through the lens, the red paint is covered in moldy splotches of green. Well, shit. His exploit is cut off as the door opens. A middle-aged woman opens the door smiling as we draw our weapons. She wears an apron over her chest covered in flower and carries a large butcher's knife in her hand. Hello there!

A grin broadens. Care to take a breather inside? On the ground! I yell. Drop the weapon! Don't be. be silly. The woman's eye twitches as her smile broadens, and she takes a step forward. Come on in and stay a while. The serge takes a step back and steadies his aim.

Stop where you are. Drop the weapon. We? The woman's eye twitches more as her speech slows. We just want to have some guests. Please come in. Keller stomps his foot, frustrated that he can't unleash his flamethrower without taking out all of us. Drop the fucking knife, lady. The woman's face twists in a mask of rage, and she screams as she lunges forward. She spins the knife in a wild arc that whooshes around us. My finger squeezes on the trigger,

and soon Sarge's and Petrovha's gunfire joins in, blocking out all noise. The woman collapses into a bloody heap, and the Sarge runs his camera over her. Her bloody body is potmarked with green mold on the camera's screen, swearing, the Sarge stomps off towards the street. street. He fiddles with the camera and zooms out, spinning in a circle. Returning to us, he plays the video. Every house is covered with the same mold. Forget search and destroy. We're

moving on to scorched earth protocols. Sarge's voice is grim, but without any hesitation. We can't let this shit get out of town. The fog of war clouds my mind through the rest of the day. It's the only thing that keeps me returning to the van to rest dock on ammo. Heat billows around us, and the smoke-filled sky casts a shadow around us. I know from experience that I'll see the faces I've killed again, replayed in my nightmares tonight. After the last house on Main Street is put to the torch, we take a break in the van.

The serge and I are somber as we climb inside and remove our masks for the first time, greedily sucking down cold water bottles. Petrovah and Keller remain outside, eagerly smiling as they watch the world around them burn. Fucking psychopaths, I shake my head. Psychopaths with a purpose, soldier, the serge says, and pours water on his face before rubbing his eyes.

One last place on our list, the hospital. The science team thinks it's ground zero. You up for it? A long, shaky sigh escapes my lips, despite my best attempts to show no reaction. Sure, after mowing down a whole town, what's a hospital? Hey, they're not people, not anymore. The Sarge rests an arm on my shoulder.

They're monsters now. And what does it take to kill monsters? I nod my head and repeat the mantra the Sarge taught me. Bigger and badder monsters. Sergeant Carter notices the lack of conviction in my words. This work takes a toll on anyone. You've more than pulls your weight today. If you want to sit out the rest of this op, just say the word.

I look up at the Sarge and know his offer is genuine. Memories of my time after my dishonorable discharge float back to my mind. Struggling day-to-day, trying to find a job, and drowning my guilt in as much cheap booze as I could find. The Sarge was the one that pulled me out of the bars. He gave me a job and a mission with the foundation when the rest of the world turned its back on me. I'm with you until the end, Sarge.

The hospital looks deserted as we marched through it. There aren't any patients waiting in line. No orderlies or nurses making their way through their shifts. Even the TVs have been shut off, making the hospital deathly quiet, and the flames from outside all the louder. One thing that's been consistent, though, is the heat. Every thermostat has been cranked as far to the right as possible,

turning the hospital into a miniature hell. Petrovac Keller, with me. The serge looks at me and hands me a flash drive. The eggheads want us to recover any video surveillance before we torch this place. Just plug it in, and the device will do the rest. Fuck that, I shake my head. Leaving the Sarge alone with a couple of nut jobs doesn't sit well with me. I'm coming with you. The Sarge puts the flash drive in my hand and closes my fist. That's an order, soldier. His words are gentle but final, so I nod. As the three break away from me,

I make my way to the security room. I stop and check every corner on the way. but they're as abandoned as the hospital's lobby. When I get to the security room, I find a lone guard sitting in front of the monitors. He springs up from his chair and charges me, his baton held high. A quick pull of the trigger puts three bullets in his chest, and his body skids to the floor. I slide the flash drive into the computer, which hums as it goes to work.

The loading bar starts to fill, and as it does, I look over the banks of monitors. Most of the cameras show the same lack of activity consistent in the hospital, but one in the center draws my attention. My eyes widened as I realized something absent from our massacre. Where had the children been? A town this size should have hundreds of them, but none had been among the resistance so far. I didn't question it at the time. I was just thankful I didn't have to kill any kids on this op to question it.

Now though, I see where they've all been. They're huddled inside the basement, Hacement, hundreds of them, from toddlers to teenagers. Through the camera lenses, they walk back and forth in a trance, their body spotted with mold. At the center of the room is a massive mold. It's throbbing and pulsating like a beating heart. I reach for my walkie-talkie and hesitate. I can't bring myself to call the Sarge and seal their fates. The foundation has some of the greatest scientists in the world, and we have these kids contained.

not an immediate threat. Maybe if we get them to a holding facility, they'll be able to come up with a cure someday. I adjust my radio frequency to call home base when the door is kicked in on the screen. Sarge and the other step inside and look around. The Sarge doesn't hesitate as he swoops his weapon over the scene. Light them up. My walkie-talkie drops to the ground as gunfire fills the room. Petrov and Sarge's rifles make short work of the children. I realize it was the mold's last ditch effort, an attempt at a human shield that anybody would hesitate to harm. Almost anybody. As their tiny bodies drop to the ground, they charge in a last pitiful resistance. Petrovane Sarge stepped back, and Keller's manic laughter fills the room as he sprays fire.

The children scream might be the voice of the alien fungus, but it sounds all too human. When Keller finishes, Petrovain the Sarge toss in a couple of incendiary grenades just to be sure. The screen flashes and dies as the explosions engulfed the basement, shaking the ground at my feet. I collapse into the chair, the strength robbed from my body, and stare at the blank screens until a rapid beeping draws my attention. The data has finished downloading on the flash drive. My steps still feel weightless as I return to the team. I can't see Keller's grin behind his mask, but I know it's there as he taunts me. Ah, what's the matter, soldier boy?

Some smoke get in your eyes? The Sarge ignores him, steps forward, and takes the flash drive from me. You saw it, didn't you? On the feed? All I can do is not. Bigger and badder monsters, kid. I can cut you some slack today, but you have got to get that in your head. The Sarge can't hide the disappointment in his head. eyes before he turns away from me. As I tow in line behind the others, I can't help but question

his motives. Did he really send me to secure the footage to take this burden off me? Or was it because he knew I would question his orders, that I would try to stop him? Bigger and badder monsters. I can't think of anything more monstrous than what they just did. I unholster my sidearm and raise it to the back of Petrovah's head. I squeezed the trigger twice, and her skull erupts and an explosion of brains and broken bones. Keller and Sarge spin around, and I go for the pyromaniac next. My next two shots thud against his bulletproof vest,

but the third catches him below the mask. Blood spurts from his throat, and he tumbles forward, the weight of the flamethrower pinning him to the ground. The serge opens fire before I can adjust my aim. The bullets rip into my vest, and the impact knocks me flat on my ass. I don't have time to aim for the Sarge again,

so I don't even try. As he takes aim, I empty the rest of my clip into Keller's flamethrower. It ignites, and the serge screams as flames engulf his body. My ribs are bruised when I finally get back to my feet. The flames from the basement have climbed to the top of the hospital and eagerly join in with the remains of the others. I make no effort to avoid the flames, but somehow I managed to make it outside with only a few minor burns.

I pull off my mask and suck in a breath of air. It's hot and sends me into a coughing fit. I bend over and wretch and ponder my choices. Part of me just wants to wait here and dive smoke inhalation. That was a daring display of defiance. I pull my gun up on reflex even though it's empty. A young woman walks toward me, completely overdressed for the occasion. Her summer dress is decorated with sunflowers,

and she carries a bright yellow umbrella over one shoulder. She seems unimpressed by the gun. Maybe she knows it's empty. She doesn't say another word, just smiles at me and twirls the umbrella. You with the foundation? I finally ask. Her smile deepens into a frown. Do I look like I'm with the foundation?

She doesn't. But she also doesn't look like a local, not with her British accent. And she's not behaving like anyone exposed to the mold. What are you doing here then? She closes her umbrella and uses it to point upward. A mechanical chorus fills the air as several drones descend below the smoky skies. We didn't have the numbers in the area to thwart your operation. So, we decided to record you and expose you to the public.

But then these beauties caught the commotion going on inside of the hospital. Terrible how the foundation uses broken people like yourself to conduct its operations. and when it can't recruit those, well, bigger and badder monsters, yes? I frown at her words, knowing a sales pitch when I hear one. And you're so different? Her smile returns. Guilty. We also recruit broken people.

But people who are broken by the foundation. People who want to see their walls torn down and their secrets exposed. People who want to ensure tragedies like this. These, the ones brought on by their insane desire for secrecy, never repeat themselves. In short, people who know that when hunting monsters, you must be cautious not to become one yourself. I look back toward the burning hospital. The town is now nothing but smoke and fire, a mass grave of burning bodies that will get swept under the rug. I think of the people I'm murdered without a second's hesitation, all because of the Sarge's orders.

and the disappointment in his voice when I showed the slightest hesitation. With a heavy sigh, I dropped my gun to the ground. Tell me more. The woman steps to my side and puts my arm in hers. She smiles broadly up at me as she opens her umbrella again, shielding us both from the worst of the fire's heat. Welcome, my dear, to the Society for Liberation, Dissemination, and Destruction. SCP 20 is a fast-spreading fungal organism that is capable of affecting the senses and behavior of living creatures, including humans.

Samples of SCP 20 exhibit an unknown effect that renders them effectively invisible to direct observation, even when under a microscope. SCP 20 is only visible to humans when viewed through photographic or video surveillance. Once SCP 20 forms a colony, usually within a human residence, within a human residence, it will produce spores that affect the behavior of humans around it. Affected subjects will increase the heat and humidity within their homes to create an environment more suitable to the growth of SEP20. Affected subjects will also become more sociable in many cases, and often invite acquaintances to their homes to further spread the organism.

As the spores and mold colonies are invisible to affected subjects, the mold may sometimes grow directly on living subjects. As the spores and colonies within a home approach critical concentration, the health of affected human subjects will rapidly deteriorate, resulting in death. Further spread of the mold may occur

as the bodies of any deceased subjects are encountered by emergency responders and health care agents, as well as transportation of the bodies to local morgues. Lazzangue sur-gillet, puissance-moyerned for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojoo.

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