The SCP Experience - So Many Dead | SCP-2068

Episode Date: May 11, 2022

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-2068: So Many Dead This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2068, 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

Chaos erupted out of nowhere. I've never seen anything like it. Nearly the whole D-class wing overseen by security station 3 went nuts. But this wasn't your normal prison riot. As part of a security team, I've seen D-class personnel riot a few times. But this was different. This was insanity. Memories of the blood and body parts everywhere still give me nightmares. So many dead. It was the worst containment breach I've ever. ever seen. Fucking Marlins!

Jerry said as we walked down the corridor. That was pathetic. Who'd have thought they'd ever beat the Yankees in a World Series? I chuckled. Martha Stewart's going to jail. We cloned a deer. And the Marlins won the World Series. Oh yeah.

And we're at war in Iraq. I don't know if I like this new millennium. Jerry shook his head. I knew I shouldn't have bet on them. The corridor leading up to the D-Class wing smelled of cleaning chemicals. The glossy off-white walls and the smooth concrete floor

reflected the regularly placed lights in the ceiling. We came to a pair of heavy-duty metal doors and looked up into the camera above, waving at whoever was monitoring the feeds in Station 3. Probably Peterson or Marquez. Then Jerry touched his keycard to the little reader next to the door. Peterson or Marquez pressed a button in the security station, disengaging one lock, while Jerry's keycard disengaged the other lock.

I opened the left-hand door and let Jerry walk through. The D-Class wing was two stories, looking a lot like the wing of a prison, which it was, for the most part. The SCP Foundation's version of a prison anyway. Generally, D-class personnel got better all-around treatment than regular prisoners. If you didn't count the weird and sometimes lethal experiments they were forced, to do. Not all of the experiments were dangerous, but many of them were. Which is why we only recruited D-class personnel that were the worst of the worst. At least, that's the wing that I worked

in. It was a holding wing, because once a D-class person was chosen for an experiment with an SCP, they generally were held under strict protocols to avoid containment breaches. Of course, this was up to the doctor handling the experiments. If the anomalous properties of an SCP were fully understood, these strict protocols might not need to be followed. I knew that other wings at other foundation facilities recruited prisoners who had five or ten years on their sentence, enticing them with early release.

Most of those guys and gals did experiments with the less dangerous SCPs, but not here, not this wing. As Jerry and I walked through the doors, I looked around at the cells lining the walls here on the first floor. I could also see up past the railings onto the second floor, which more cells sat, most of them occupied. It was quiet for the most part, aside from the jawing and joking that was always going on between the people and the cells. I looked down to the other end of the long corridor and saw another security team releasing some guys from their cells. They were a good 75 yards away. Who we got this morning, Chippy?

Jerry asked me. My real name is Charles, but everyone calls me Chip, aside from Jerry, who calls me Chippy. We're grabbing two guys, D-4576 and D-4599, and taking them to see a Dr. Slessinger down on sub-level five, I said.

I didn't have to look at the request. I just remembered. It wasn't hard to do, But Jerry seemed to be allergic to remembering anything but sports statistics. Perfecto, he said, as we walked over toward the security station, where we'd find out which cells these two guys were in. There was plenty of turnover in the place, so we never had time to learn who was in what cell.

The station was in the center of the long wing, ahead on our left and opposite the middle staircase. And as we approached it, the sound of talking and joking suddenly ceased. At least, it did on the opposite side of the wing, where the four-person security team was escorting a few of D-class guys our way. It was as if half the wing stopped talking all at once, and it immediately put me on edge. I dropped my right hand to my foundation-issue pistol and stopped walking. Beside me, Jerry did the same. The other team, who I recognized as Silva, Green, Collins, and Chandler, stopped in their tracks too.

They looked around, curious and uneasy. The three D-class guys with them, all of them dressed in orange jumpsuits, looked straight ahead with angry faces. The other side of the wing suddenly erupted with angry shouting, banging, and screaming. It was so loud and so abrupt that I actually flinched and pulled my pistol out. It just wasn't possible for that many people to orchestrate with such precision,

especially not when half of them couldn't see each other to communicate. I knew an SCP was to blame for this, but I had no idea which one could do such a thing. The other security team started moving again, but one of the D-class guys with them refused to walk. His face was growing red, and his eyes were bulging out of their sockets. Collins and Silva stepped up to him and started urging him to move. And that's when he exploded. There was a flash of blinding light, followed by a bang, and then a shockwave that expended most of its energy by the time it reached Jerry and me. At first I didn't understand what had happened, because it happened

so fast. I reacted to the explosion by closing my eyes and turning away, but when I looked back, the uncooperative man in the orange jumpsuit was gone. Silva and Collins were in pieces. Silver was blown in half at the waist, and Collins was in several large chunks. There was blood everywhere, and Silva was still alive, dragging himself along the floor with his hands, screaming. I don't think he realized his legs were no longer attached. An alarm started ringing, adding to the crazy shouting still coming from about half the cells. Green, Chandler, and the other two D-class guys had been knocked down by the blast, but they looked whole.

They had bits of blood on them, but I couldn't tell whether the blood had been thrown from the explosion or if they'd been injured by some kind of organic shrapnel, like bits of bones. Green tried to stand up, but his legs didn't seem to be working. Chandler got to his feet and stumbled back toward the epicenter of the explosion. I raved my pistol and started forward as the two D-Class guys got up off the ground. Stop! I shouted at them. Get back on the ground!

They ignored me, both of them turning back toward Chandler and Green. One of them started screaming. I wanted to take the shot and put him down, but he was too close to Chandler. So I ran, changing my angle so I wouldn't hit Chandler with an errant shot. But before I could get into a good position, both the men exploded. I was close enough to the blast to be thrown off my feet, my gun skittering along the floor as I hit the ground. When I looked up again, there was nothing but body parts scattered around the corridor

where Chandler and Green had been. Jerry came up behind me, helping me to my feet, just as I noticed that the two cell doors nearest the blast had been damaged. They both opened, releasing two men in orange jumpsuits, who both bolted toward the security station, and they were fast, faster than they should have been. Where's my gun? Fast, looking around. Jerry didn't answer. He just raised his gun and fired at the two men as they ran at an angled past us. I spotted my gun and rushed over to it.

picking it up off the ground and turning around to see that Jerry had put one of the men down. The other one was about to reach the security station door. If he was as strong as he was fast, I figured he could break through the door with no problem. So I raised my pistol, took aim, and fired. The guy stumbled and fell, a bloom of blood appearing on the left side of his head from the shot. He slid to a stop about a foot from the station three door. Jerry and I looked around. It didn't appear that any more cell doors had been damaged.

Let's get to the security station, Jerry said. I nodded and turned that way. My eyes going wide and my mouth dropping open. The man I'd shot was transforming right before my eyes, turning into a cloud of dark vapor that was streaming through the crack below the security station door. Half his body was already gone, while the other half was in the middle of turning. What the hell could do this? Jerry said.

frustration apparent in his voice. Through the reinforced transparent barrier between the corridor and the security station, I could see Peterson convulsing in his seat as the blue-black vapor entered his nose and mouth. His hands reached out, seemingly of their own accord, and started doing something on the control panel. We need to get out of here, I said. A heartbeat later, all the doors on the far side of the corridor opened. There was no pause, no surprise, and no hesitation.

D-class personnel in orange jumpsuits poured out of these cells. Those on the first floor ran toward us, yelling and screaming. Those on the second floor threw themselves over the railings in their mad rush toward us. I was more than surprised to see that most of them landed uninjured on the first floor. Jerry and I ran as fast as we could, heading back to the set of doors we came through. We had a little bit of a head start. However, it wasn't enough. I extended my pistol behind me, looking over my shoulder,

and firing a couple of shots at those closest. Jerry did the same. It bought us a few seconds. I turned my head back and saw that the containment door, a foot thick and made of reinforced steel, was coming down in its tracks over the security doors we'd come through. We were close now, but not close enough to stop and put a key card up to the panel

while also waiting for someone from the security station on the other side to grant us access. Even if we could do that before the mob of D-Class personnel made it to us, us, we'd never be able to do it before the containment door came down. I was just about to give up and turned to fight when the two security doors opened, men in gas masks and full protective gear holding them open for us. Putting all I had into the last few yards, I slid down like a baseball player, making it under the huge steel door with about a foot of clearance over me.

And I turned just in time to see Jerry stumble, his arms pinwheeling as an army and orange behind him closed in. His eyes went wide. He knew he was going down, so he used one of his last controlled steps to launch himself forward as the door came down. But it wasn't enough. He landed short, his arms outstretched over the threshold. I dropped my gun and scrambled up to help him, grabbing his wrists and pulling him in a desperate effort to get him through before the door came down. But deep down, I knew it was hopeless. The door moved inexorably. The door moved, inexorably. down onto his head and shoulders, popping his skull like a grape. It closed fully with me still hanging onto his wrists, which, along with his forearms, were the only parts of him that

made it through. Blood seeped from under the door toward me. I let go of his wrists and backed away, unable to believe what had just happened. Stop! A muffled voice said from behind me. I turned my head to see about a dozen security guys, all pointing guns at me, all wearing gas masks. They were just following protocol and I knew it. So I let them take me to a containment room where they did a bunch of tests on me. I finally got it out of them what had caused the whole thing. It was a new SCP that they were holding on the floor below the D-class area. It had a limited range, which explained why only half of the D-class had been affected. Of course, they didn't know it had any range when they brought it into the facility. It was a pump, a fucking reciprocating pump.

that's able to affect the limbic system and transform organic material into pretty much anything at once. I didn't quite understand at all, but the thing apparently is able to make virus-like molecules that get into your body. Once there, they can do whatever the SCP wants them to do, like make men go insane with rage, or turn internal organs into explosives. Later, I watched a video of the affected D-class personnel after I'd escaped the wing. Once they had essentially decimated an entire containment team, the whole wing was torched, burning everyone there alive, whether they were infected or not. I don't know how they got the SCP itself under control, but it's lucky they did.

Because, once it was clear I hadn't been infected by the molecules this thing released that day, the site director herself told me she almost used the ultimate failsafe, an on-site warhead that would have killed us all, along with the SCP. Lazzang sur-gilled, Pucance-Moyerned 15 minutes. We'd say that's the Dojo!

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on the machine-Bass-Bus Bonanza, depop minimum, to 10 dollars, pay you to pay SCP-268 is a reciprocating pump, discovered by coalition military forces in Iraq shortly after the invasion in 2003. In-place foundation assets contained the device and brought the item to Site 15 due to the detection of unique electronic signatures. Upon examination, it was discovered that SCP-268 contained several biological mechanisms of unknown artifice.

Testing showed SCP-268 to be the housing for a biological computer, as well as several other organs linked together by circulatory and nerve analogs. The lead researcher assigned to the SCP deduced its purpose was to draw in energy and resources from the environment, to both make various hydrocarbon compounds, as well as to make more versions of itself. The immense power of SCP-268 lies in a protein-sheathed organic molecule deemed to be able to make more versions of itself. SCP-268-1, which acts much like a virus. SCP-268-1 can target any organic substance to either make copies of itself, consume for fuel, or build a wide variety of chemical structures. It is also capable of self-propulsion in most fluids as well as air.

In addition, it shows a high level of coordination and networking with other instances, so that clusters of SCP-268-1 may act in constant. to either make broad physiological changes, to subsume the consciousness of its living host and replace it with its own, or even to use dead tissue as a vehicle to move and protect itself. SCP-268-1 is nearly impossible to detect due to its size, as well as the fact that it appears to exhibit polymorphism, changing its own structure as needed. Currently, the only means to detect whether an individual has been infected is through MRI,

and only when structures can be detected by either the naked eye or through electromagnetic emissions.