The SCP Experience - The Creatures in the Pyramid | SCP-875

Episode Date: February 21, 2025

A condemned prisoner forced into a deadly underground mission by a secretive organization must navigate ancient traps, monstrous insectoid creatures, and treacherous teammates, all while clinging to the slim hope of survival and freedom. Acorns: Head to acorns.com/scp or download the Acorns app to get started. This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-875 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Acorns: Huge thanks to Acorns for sponsoring today's episode! Head to acorns.com/scp or download the Acorns app to start saving and investing for your future today. * * * 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 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I can tell we're in the desert, despite the lack of windows in the truck, and the hoods they put over our heads when we got off the plane. Which desert is something I don't immediately know. Given the length of the plane ride, I'm guessing we're not in America, but that still leaves dozens of deserts to choose from. Sweat drips down my hairline, soaking into the collar of my orange jumpsuit. Perspiration causes the thick material to stick to my lower back. If they hadn't removed our hoods after hustling us into the truck, I probably would have passed out already.

In addition to a lack of windows, there's also no air conditioning back here. But at least I'm not the security officer here with us. Warren is wearing full gear, which includes a helmet, gloves, and a ballistic vest. The poor bastard must be baking. His pockmarked face is tinged in unhealthy shade of red under the sheen of sweat. If the foundation is anything, it's a stickler for the rules. And the rules say that any security officer in the back with three or more D-class needs to be in full gear, even if it's triple digits outside.

If I were a stupid man, I might try and take this opportunity to get the better of Warren, take his rifle and use him as a hostage. But I'm not a stupid man. And given the nature of the road we're on, I'd say we're in the middle of the middle of the middle of the middle of the middle of the middle of the middle of the middle of, of nowhere, in the desert. I would be dead in days, even if I managed to get the truck, which isn't much of a possibility. The rules also say that killing a D-class is preferable to letting him get away with an expensive piece of foundation property. Besides, like the other three poor bastards back here with me, I'm chained to a heavy eye bolt in the floor.

In the illumination from the dim overhead light, I study the faces of the other D-class. Lynn is the only one of us who looks comfortable. He's leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. Maybe he's meditating or something. Maybe he's a Buddhist. Or maybe that's just me stereotyping him because he's Asian. Howard, a slope-shouldered white guy with a swastika tattooed on the crown of his shaved skull, takes turns glaring at me and Lynn.

It must be exhausting to be so hateful. Plus, he's sweating more than I am. He's nearly soaked. Foster, who sits next to Howard, is a lanky ginger, who hasn't said much of anything since we were all loaded onto the plane 10 or 12 hours ago. I wonder if I'm going to be forced to kill one or more of these men. There's no telling with the foundation. I'm kind of a celebrity among the other.

D-class back at my cell block. I've survived four experiments. Most people don't even survive one. But it's not because I'm some badass special ups guy or anything. It has been pure luck. Nothing more, nothing less. And sooner or later, my luck will run out. I just hope it's not today. Finally, the truck slows and then stops. I hear muffled voices from outside. After a long moment and some more talking, there's the creek of a gate coming open. The truck resumes its journey. A couple of minutes later, the vehicle stops again. The engine vibrations cease.

Two doors slam. The rear doors open. Bright, desert sunlight stabs my eyes as it floods inside. Warren hops out and lets one of the other security guys come in and unlock our chains one at a time. Howard the Nazi goes first, followed by me. As I step over to where warrant points, I get a look at my surroundings. Sure enough, we're in a desert. Tufts of pale grass lean in the hot wind.

Hardy shrubs stick up here and there from the tan-colored landscape. A new-looking fence surrounds the area. I look back along the dirt road and see a guard shack next to the gate. So this place is important to the foundation. but I can't imagine why. The only thing of note within the fence is a crumbling sandstone structure that looks to be the remnants of a small home several hundred years abandoned. It's square, like it once supported a roof.

There's a ragged entrance in the wall facing us, but I can't see anything interesting inside, other than a large stone block about the size of a mini-Cooper. Then again, with the foundation, nothing is ever what it seems. Probably once we step foot inside the structure, we'll be turned inside out. Our bodies pulled painfully through our buttholes until our outsides are in and our insides are out. It may not be of much scientific use, but I'm sure it'll garner a good laugh from the security officers. Once we're all out of the truck, the senior guard gives us a rundown on what they expect from us.

While they're talking, Warren grabs four small backpacks from the truck and sets them near. nearby, but out of our reach. As the guard briefs us, I pay close attention to what he says. But it's the end of the briefing that really hits home for me. If you accomplish the objective and make it through alive, you will have earned your freedom. That's all I need to hear. I clap my hands together. Great, let's do this.

Don't turn inside out once we step foot into the crumbling structure. At least there's that. Warren escorts us to a rectangular hole in the desert floor with old stone steps leading down into darkness. Given the indent in the ground around this entrance, and the mini-cupor-sized block to one side, my guess is, this is a new discovery for the foundation. The block was only recently covering the secret entrance. I wonder if we'll be the first ones to step foot inside. I hope not.

Usually the first batch of expendables in are the ones that die, horrible death. deaths. But given how much information they gave us during the briefing, I'm assuming we are the second group to go in. Maybe my luck will hold out a little longer. The senior guard grins, remember, if you try to come back out without reaching the bottom chamber first, we will shoot you on site. You don't have to sound so eager about it, then says. The security officer's grin falls away. He steps over and elbows Lynn in the stomach. Get in there before my trigger finger gets itchy. Go! There's only room enough for us to go down single file. So that's just what we do. A groaning and doubled over Lynn bringing up the rear. As we leave the sunlight and the hot

desert wind behind, the temperature drops several degrees and the smell of old dry stone permeates the air. Howard, the Nazi, who is at the front of the line, stops at the bottom of the stairs outside a tunnel. This forces all of us to stop, but it's necessary so we can pull the flashlights out of our bags. What's to stop us from using these explosives on those assholes up there? Foster asks, pulling out a device that looks like a large pipe bomb with a kitchen timer attached to it. We each have one, with explicit instructions on where and how to use them. Will you not listen, an idiot? Howard the Nazi asks. There's a proximity device in them that won't allow them to be detonated anywhere near the guards.

Besides, it's the only way we get to the bottom floor and earn our freedom. Foster shrugs. I kind of zoned out. He talked for like ten minutes straight. I'm surprised Howard is smart enough to understand half of what they set up there. Lynn whispers to me, still wincing from his shot to the belly. Hey, you slimy-eyed fuck, Howard yells. You keep it up. I'll shove my bomb up your ass and set it off.

No proximity device on you, is there? You guys really think they'll let us go if we do this? Lynn asks, changing this subject. I know what happens if we don't, I say. So we aren't really drowning in options here. I familiarize myself with my bomb and then stick it back in the pack. I pull out my flashlight and the handheld bug zapper provides. which looks like a tennis racket, only slightly smaller.

Remembering our instructions, I locate the small button on the bug zapper's handle. It won't zap if the button isn't held down when you hit an insect with it. Considering that one of the guards was smiling when he said, There are some real nasty bugs down there. I'm not taking any chances. I know what real nasty means in security officer lingo. convinced that one of these idiots is going to get me killed. I get my backpack snugly on and shove through the other guys,

forging ahead into the tunnel, which must be at least 12 feet tall. Hey, where are you going? Howard the Nazi asks. You trying to ditch us? I don't answer him, continuing to walk until I've gone about 30 feet, to where an image has been carved on the wall. The image shows two gnarly-looking insectile figures, like roided out praying mantises,

but without the long abdomen and sporting only two legs. One of these creatures is impaling the other with the spear held in its oddly shaped hands. As I study this carving, the others catch up with me. I move on, seeing the next carving in line. This one features a human wearing ancient Egyptian garb. I note the height differences between the two figures. The creature towers over the human.

As I continue down the tunnel, I see several more carvings that tell some sort of story. If they're to be believed, all those ancient alien dorks are right, because the creatures apparently enslaved humans to build the pyramids. The second to last carving gives me pause. It shows one of those mantis creatures eating a human's brain. The last carving shows creatures in strange containers, almost like vats or something. It's concerning, but I shake it off, determined to get to the fourth floor down. According to the guards, Foundation researchers used some kind of scanning technology to map the underground structure,

which is apparently an inverted pyramid. The quicker I can get down there, the quicker I can get my freedom. I choose to believe it's not a lie, because it's a hugely motivating factor. That's the point, I'm sure. but I'm not ashamed to say it's working on me. Just beyond the edge of the last carving, the floor changes. The floor thus far is made of uniform sandstone tiles, but beyond the last carving on the wall, the tiles are irregular, like puzzle pieces.

I recall the guard's words as he told us to, Be careful where you step, if you want to make it through alive. When I asked what that meant, he ignored me and continued with the briefing. Very helpful. Lazang surgelled, puissance-moyerned for 15 minutes. We'd say that's the

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The voice that we love that we're able. Sometimes I think that the guards give us as little information as possible, in hopes that will get killed. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. As I'm reaching one foot out to prod the nearest tiles, Howard the Nazi shoves past me and walks ahead without so much as a glance at the floor. For a guy who was just giving Foster shit about not paying attention, he seems to have ignored an important part of the briefing.

He walks down the high ceiling to passageway toward a turn about 15 yards on. Nothing happens. The rest of us watch as he disappears around the corner. The glow from his flashlight fading as he goes. I try to remember where he stepped as I start after him. Lynn and Foster follow in my footsteps. Lynn using a can of spray paint from his bag to mark the floor. It's only when I approached the turn in the passageway that I hear something shift from

up ahead, like stone sliding on stone. What the hell? I slow as I turn the corner and place my flashlight beam on the Nazi, standing at the cusp of another turn in the tunnel. His right foot is lower than his left, because the tile underneath it has sunk. He pulls his foot out and looks around. Even from where I'm standing, I can hear the buzzing of small wings. Hundreds of them, by the sound of it.

Howard shines his flashlight up near the 12-foot high ceiling, revealing a small stone panel that is opened in the wall. Half a dozen little flying bugs dart out. They're too small to see clearly from here, but I figure they're about two inches long. As the first ones dive toward Howard, hundreds more swarm out of the panel and go on the attack. Howard backs away, swinging his handheld bug zapper, which produces tiny purple blue bolts of electricity as the electrified wire mesh hits the bugs. Even though he's swinging it as fast as he can, it's no match for the sheer numbers. Soon, Howard's grunts of effort

turn into screams of pain as he runs back toward us. But I'm only half aware of this, because a few dozen of the insects are darting toward me and the other two guys. As they close in and I get a better look at them. I can see they're not like any insect I've ever seen before. They look like winged scorpions, with narrower bodies and downward curving tails, with nasty stingers on them. Still screaming, Howard falls down about ten feet away, dropping his zapper. I can barely see through the carpet of insects covering him as I turn to run back the way we came. I take care to follow the freshly painted white marks on the floor. But ahead of me, Lynn veers off course. I reach out and grab hold of his collar as best I can, yanking him back onto the safe path.

Meanwhile, I'm whipping my zapper around as some of the insects attack. The thing works pretty well, but I feel a couple of stings on my arms, neck, and face, and they're painful enough to take my breath away. It's like getting stabbed with a needle covered in ghost pepper juice, and the pain radiates in waves up and down the nearby nerves. As the three of us get back to the relative safety of the entrance tunnel, we form a close line and whip our zappers all around, killing the remaining insects who followed us. Howard the Nazi screaming reaches a fever pitch and then dies away just as we're finishing up. We stand still for several long moments, scanning for more bugs. The faint buzzing finally dissipates, and I feel safe enough to check some of the stings.

I pull up a sleeve and study one of the areas where I was stung, quelling a bolt of terror as I I see the effects. An area about the size of a quarter on my forearm is bubbling and bleeding. It's almost as if the flesh is melting away. I clench my teeth against the pain, resting the urge to touch the stings on my face. It's melting my skin! Foster screams, looking at his own injuries. I ignore his outburst, keeping my eyes on my forearm until the bubbling finally stops. The bleeding continues, but at least No more of my flesh is melting. The gruesome crater left behind is wide but not so deep.

It hurts like a mother, but I can live with it. I just don't have high hopes for winning any beauty contests with the two wounds on my face, which hurt even more than the ones on my arms. I can't do this, Foster shouts, turning back to head toward the stairs. They'll shoot you on sight, remember? Lynn calls. I hear Foster stop walking.

If you're going to go get yourself killed, At least, leave us your stuff. There's no answer. But there's also no sound of him walking away. He's thinking. Hey, Gonzalez, Lynn says. Thanks for keeping me on track back there. I did it to say my own ass, not yours.

If you had released more of those things, we'd all be pretty messed up right about now. Right. So be more careful or just stay your ass here. Screw that. If I stay here, I don't get set free. You might just survive, though. I tell him. Before Lynn can answer, Foster comes back, sniffling and wiping tears from his face.

Let's get this shit done. Here's what we need to do, I say. One of us needs to be the scout, making sure the floor is safe to walk on. Another one needs to mark the floor, and the last one needs to look out for any of those insects. Who's going to do what? After some back and forth, we determined that I'll be the one to check the floor, while Lynn continues marking with the paint, and Foster watches our backs. We move back down the passageway and turn the corner, catching our first glimpse of Howard the Nazi since the attack. He looks about like I expected, although that doesn't mean I can look at him easily. He's been stung so many times on the head. His face looks like a pizza with runny sauce that's been dropped down a flight of stairs. His limbs are

much gone, melting out of his jumpsuit and sluggish runnels of liquefied flesh. The smell is atrocious, but it's nothing compared to this sight. I force myself to take it all in as a reminder to go slow. If I get impatient, I could end up like him. So that's just what I do. As we move past his liquefying body, the corpses of the insects he killed crunch under our feet. I move on with deliberate steps, testing every foot placement to make sure I don't trigger another booby trap. Lynn and Foster follow me.

We come across three other dead bodies, all of them barely recognizable, all of them wearing orange jumpsuits, the team who went in before us, yesterday or the day before, by the looks of them. They don't have bug zappers, so it's clear we're benefiting from the information their deaths provided. We collect explosives from their bags and keep moving. It takes several hours, but we make it to the end of the labyrinth, to the place where the guard said we'd have to blow a hole on the floor. It's just like he said. There's a carving on the floor in some language I've never seen before.

Probably some kind of puzzle to get the floor panel open. But why do that when we can just blow it up? We stick with one bomb first. That's what the guard said to do. I set it and backtrack around the corner very carefully to where Lynn and Foster are. We crouch there, fingers plugging our ears, until the thing explodes.

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From binge all episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. We were each provided with a 30-foot length of climbing rope in our beach. bags, but there's nowhere to tie the rope. So Foster and Lynn lower me down to the second floor after the dust settles. There are lights down here, so I don't need my flashlight. I look around the single chamber, noting four large and opaque containers, like water or chemical vats. After making sure I'm alone and not about to have a bunch of flying insects attack me, I get to work clearing out a space on the floor so the other two can jump down. Once I get the broken bits of stone out of the way, so they don't break an ankle coming down, the other two join me.

There should be an access tunnel here somewhere, I say, reiterating what the guards told us. What's in here? Foster asks, heading toward one of the vats. Lynn and I ignore him, searching around the tunnel entrance. This one's leaking, Foster calls. It smells like water. I barely register these words for a long moment. Then Lynn and I stop at the same time and peer at each other. Foster?

No answer. Don't tell me he's that stupid, Lynn says. I tilt an eyebrow at him before moving off to find Foster. I come across him sitting with his back to a vat, right next to a small leak in the container. Clear liquid seeps out, running down the side and gathering on the floor before disappearing through cracks in the tiles.

One look at Foster's wet mouth, It's easy to see the idiot is that stupid. He drank some of the stuff, but he's still alive. In fact, he has a smile on his face. His eyes roll lazily up to meet mine. Who are you? Where are we? I share another look with Lynn. Brain damage, maybe.

Who knows? Screw him. Let's just get this done. After one last glance at Foster, at his dopy smile. We head off to continue our search. I'll be right here, Foster says, giggling. I don't think I could move anyway. Soon enough, we find the tunnel entrance hidden behind a jutting shelf of stone that blends into the wall until you're right on top of it. The tunnel goes straight down and features a ladder,

but the rungs of the ladder are widely spaced. They're just barely close enough to allow Lynn and me to climb down to the third floor. Once again, there are lights on this floor, which illuminate a large and complex piece of machinery that produces a low-level hum. Pipes and cords snake up through the ceiling and down through the floor from the thing. The hell is that? Len asks. I don't know, but do me a favor and don't touch it. Hey, I'm not as stupid as Foster.

I search around the chamber, looking for a good place to blow through the floor. Whatever the machinery is, I don't really want to disrupt it or break anything. but I've got to get to the fourth floor if I want my freedom. Lynn, who's apparently thinking the same thing, calls me over to one side of the chamber. Look at this, Gonzales. One of these floor tiles is loose. Together, we pry up the tile and find the subfloor,

which is made of layers of tightly spaced bricks. After looking at the machinery and determining this is as good as it's going to get, I shrug. Good enough. I plant the bomb, while Lynn has to be able to. heads back up to the second floor. Then I set the timer and rush up the big ladder myself. As I join Lynn huddling behind one of the vats,

I pass Foster, who still looks all doped up. The floor shakes a little, startling Foster. What was that? What the hell are you guys doing down there? Just stay here, I tell him. Don't move and don't touch anything. He looks like a small child who doesn't quite understand the orders his parents are giving him. But I don't really care about him at this point.

Me and Lynn head back to the access tunnel and peer down. There's nothing to indicate that we did any serious damage to whatever that machinery is down there. So we head down the ladder again. Lynn goes first. I wait for him to get a safe distance down before starting my descent. Where are you guys going? Foster asks from nearby. Don't leave me alone up here.

Just stay put. We continue down the ladder. But as we're nearing the bottom, Foster climbs on up above. Lynn reaches the bottom and steps off, but I still have a little ways to go. I've slowed down because of Foster. He's going too fast and being too sloppy. I peer up at him, certain he's going to fall on me at any moment. Sure enough, he slips and falls.

I jump off the ladder and spin around, hitting the floor awkwardly and twisting my ankle before I roll out of the way. A split second later, Foster crashes into the floor behind me. I hear the sound of bone snapping and flesh tearing. Premising at the pain in my ankle, I look back at Foster. He's still alive, but barely. I count at least three compound fractures, two in his legs and one at his collarbone. His eyes are filled with pain as he weezes, struggling to breathe.

My guess is a rib or two has punctured his lungs. God, Lynn says. I get to my feet, wincing when I put any weight on my ankle. Let's just get this done already. At the new hole in the floor, we peer down into the fourth chamber, shining our flashlights around. From what we can see, the chamber is smaller than all the others, which makes sense if the structure is an inverted pyramid. There are ten vats down there, arranged in a circle. Unlike the large, opaque vats on the second floor, these are smaller and clear.

Each one has a large figure suspended in the middle of it, surrounded by some kind of liquid, probably the same liquid that idiot foster drink. Although it's difficult to make out each figure clearly, thanks to the dust clinging to the vats, it's easy to see they're not human. They appear to be the very same creatures depicted in the carvings up on the first floor, roided out by peatel-paying mantises. Fuck this, Lynn says. You know what happens when we get down there.

Those things wake up. That's what happens. Then they eat our brains. I nod absently, thinking. Then I look at Lynn. So let's give them some brains to eat and see if they wake up. Lynn raises an eyebrow. Seriously? I would get him myself, but my ankle is messed up. Just drag him over and we'll toss him down. He's dead anyway. That's cold-blooded, man. He's the one who couldn't get down a damn ladder. I'm just playing the cards I was dealt.

Lynn shakes his head, but he heads over and gets foster. He's still alive, barely, but his breathing has gotten worse. We position him next to the hole and then lower him down feet first as best we can. Then we drop him. His shattered body hits like a rag doll and comes to rest in the dark chamber. We watch for several minutes. Nothing happens. Good enough for me. Let's go.

Fine, Lynn says. But you first. He ties off a length of rope and tosses the other end down the hole. I climb down, stepping over Foster, who is now dead. While Lynn climbs down the rope, I step into the circle made by the ten vats. Now that I'm closer, I can see things more clearly. Three of the creatures in the vats are dead and decomposing. The liquid in which they're suspended has a cloudy, greenish hue to it,

unlike the clear liquid of the other seven. I make my way around the circle, studying the gross insectile creatures. Like praying mantises, they have forearms that are hinged forward and down, and the insides of these arms are lined with spikes on both sides. But unlike mantises, these arms end in holes from which narrow, tentacle-like fingers protrude. The fingers are ten inches long, but for all I know, they have the ability to lengthen them at will. As far as I can tell, they're not attached to the hard-fetched. forearms themselves. They protrude from the inside. When I leapt full circle to the tenth

vat, Lynn has made his way down and is standing there, shining his light at the creature in the vat. Why does this one look different? Being one of the two nearest to the explosion, it's covered in a layer of fine dust. I reach a handout and wipe away some of the dust. The realization that there's no liquid inside the vat comes a split second before the creature's bulbous black eyes blink. A muffled The old screech comes from inside the vat as the creature shoots both arms out and cracks the clear material holding it captive. Shit! Lynn screams, turning immediately to run for the rope. As he goes, he whips one hand out and pushes me backward.

I stumble, as I'm forced to use my injured ankle to stay upright. The creature punches the vat again, and this time it breaks through. The screeching sound grows louder as the thing uses its armored arms to bash out a hole big enough for it to climb through. to climb through. I dodge around the back of the vat and limp run for the rope, which Lynn is currently climbing. I drop my flashlight and start climbing with both hands. As I get near the hole in the ceiling, I glance back to see the creature pulling itself fully out of the bat. Its head rotates 180 degrees on its neck, and its widely spaced black eyes fix on me. Ignoring the pain in my ankle as best I can, I continue climbing. By the time I reach the top, Lynn is all

already heading up the ladder. Knowing I'll never make it in time, I head the opposite direction, diving behind a piece of protruding machinery. As I peer out from my hiding place, I see the creature emerge through the hole in the floor with ease. It scurries along the floor toward the ladder, then it disappears into the tunnel. I hear Lynn scream. I whip my backpack off and get a bomb out, one that I took from a member of the dead D-class team who came down before us. A commotion draws my attention and I look back over to the ladder tunnel. The creature emerges, walking backward and dragging Lynn by the legs as the man scratches at the floor, ripping his fingernails out in his frantic effort to get away. Once it has Lin in the area at the base of the ladder tunnel,

it straddles him and uses those tentacle fingers to yank one of his arms up into the air. It fixes its other forearm around his arm at the elbow, and then it snaps the two spiked sides of its appendage together, severing Lynn's arm at the elbow. Lin screams, momentarily drowning out the constant screeching from the creature. It makes quick work of his other arm. With those pesky limbs taken care of, the creature turns its attention to Lynn's head. I use the screaming and screeching to my advantage, setting the timer on the bomb in my hand for five seconds. The beeps are lost in the noise. I pulled the backpack back on. I still have two bombs in it. Looking back up, I'm just in time to see the creature snapping one pincer-like arm down on the top of Lin's skull.

His head cracks open like a walnut in a nutcracker. The sight of his brain, although smushed, sends the creature into a frenzy. It digs into the remnants of Lynn's skull with the tentacle fingers of both hands, yanking bits of brain out and gobbling them up with its narrow mouth. I guess being stored in some kind of stasis chamber, for who knows how long makes you hungry. While it's busy with its meal, I move toward it as fast as I can. Thumb on the bomb's arm button. As I come up behind it, I look for somewhere to stick the bomb to make sure it kills the thing.

But while I'm doing this, the creature somehow senses me. Its head rotates again, eyes staring at me. I press the button on the bomb and count down. Five. Four, I toss the bomb casually next to the creature. Three, I turn and run toward the hole in the floor. floor, two, one. I slide down into the hole, dropping 12 feet as the bomb explodes behind me. My left leg folds under me as I land, and I feel something snap. I scream in pain as the echoes

of the explosion fade. For a moment, I still think the creature is screeching, but that's just the ringing in my ears. I get myself to a sitting position against the wall and look down at my left leg. It's fucked. My right ankle has swollen to the size of a soft ball. There's no way I'm getting out of here without being carried. But that's okay, because I've accomplished my mission. The security officers will soon send some more people down. They'll find me and get me out of here. I just need to hang on a little. A muffled screeching comes from a nearby vat. I dropped my flashlight before climbing the rope out of here, but it's still on, providing enough illumination to see about half the vats. One of the creatures is moving as the

Liquid drains out of the container. Then another one is moving, and another. Six of them, altogether. They screech as they break through the vats. Clenching my teeth, I get my backpack off and prepare the two bombs, setting them each for two seconds. I guess my luck finally has run out, I say to myself, with an exasperated chuckle. Two of the creatures get out of their vats at the same time and move toward me.

Come on, you ugly sons of bitches! I got some brains here for you. Come and get them! SCP 875 is an underground pyramid estimated to be 4,800 years old, and located in the Sahara Desert. No evidence of the pyramid's construction exists in records from the period. The outer layer of the structure is made of regular sandstone, but possesses an inner layer composed of an as-yet unknown alloy.

Using ground penetrating radar, Foundation researchers have determined that the pyramid has four-levels, levels and may contain as yet unknown anomalies or technology that could benefit the Foundation's mission. The O5 Council has approved exploration by D-class personnel.