The SCP Experience - The Dungeon | SCP-567

Episode Date: February 21, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-567: The Dungeon  Author: Lucas Click Check out the Author's work here: newpulptales.com This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-567, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ 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

It's something else here now. Something new. From. Exclusively on Paramount Plus. It's the series Stephen King calls scary as hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi Vision calls it the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules.

Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home. From binge all episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. My breath comes out hard and sharp as I run down the hall. I don't know what happened. A few minutes ago, I woke up in my cell with the door open and the lights off. At first, I thought it was one of Dr. Parker's tricks, something to get my hopes up before he straps me to a chair and sends another thousand bolts through my body.

But my cell wasn't the only one open. Every door was open, and the other inmates had stepped out, muttering into the the darkened corridor. I don't need to know what's happening. I just know I need to run like hell. Some of the other prisoners fall weeping onto the ground. I don't doubt that it's the first time they've been out of their cells in years. Others try to organize each other in groups to repel the guards. Most of the prisoners here, including me, have been experimented on by Parker and his henchmen. Many of us want the chance to pay back some of the damage done to us. Violence quickly erupts in ways that defy nature.

One man grips another inmate who screams as his body bursts into flames. Another touches the ground, and it begins to shake, knocking everyone off their feet. With all the chaos, it doesn't take long for the guards to show up, while part of me thirsts for a little revenge of my own. my immediate concern is getting out. Like the rest of the inmates, I have powers of my own, but they're nothing as impressive as those displayed in the riot. I've had this weird electrical charge throughout my body all my life.

It doesn't do much, except to make it impossible for me to have a good hair day. It always stands up on frizzing edges. I was always hesitant to shake people's hands because they always got a nasty sting from my head. ever-present static shock. I'm prone to reading because electronics have a habit of glitching out in my presence. My power had always been more of an annoyance than a gift, but a manageable one. That all changed.

I don't know how long ago. Maybe months, maybe years. It's hard to judge the passage of time when the only thing I see is my cell or Parker's lab. One night I awoke in this cell without any explanations, just a barrage of beatings before getting strapped up to a modified electric chair. Dr. Parker had been present for every session, always smiling as he steadily increased the voltage as my body rived against my bindings. You have the potential for so much more, Alex Boyo. We just have to find out your limits. The lack of results hasn't stopped Parker from torturing me.

My weird ability hasn't done anything new, except occasionally turning my body into a nightlight. Each failure just led him to coming up with crueler and more grueling experiments. Trying to get fight to outweigh flight, as he always says. I think I'll leave the fight to the other experiments and fly out of his hellhole as fast as I can. Gunfire erupts behind me. I look around in panic and duck into a side door. Whatever shorted out the lights has apparently killed the locks to this door too. I push it open with a heavy grunt and step inside.

There's a staircase made of ancient chipped stone, but it's leading down and not up. The cries of pain and more gunshots make my decision for me, and I head down the stairs. It gets darker the deeper I go, and the air grows thicker. Then the familiar feeling starts working across my skin. across my skin, like ants crawling and nipping at my arms and legs. A yellow light shines from my body. While I'm grateful that it reveals the steps before me and stops me from tripping and breaking my neck, it'll only show my location if someone comes down the stairs after me.

I reach the end of the steps and swear, it's a dead end. There is nothing but a circular area with eight rooms. Each room has rusted iron bars. for doors. I step through, letting the light of my body guide my way, hoping maybe they lead to somewhere else. But no, each room is identical, little more than an ancient cell straight out of a medieval dungeon, all stone walls and floors. No! I lean against the bars to the nearest cell and close my eyes. My hands tighten against the rusted metal and frustration, and tears fall for my eyes.

All I have done is traded a modern prison for an older one. No. Now now, Alex Boyo, you shouldn't be upset. My eyes snap open as my skin goes cold. Dr. Parker stands there, flanked by two security guards. He's in his usual white coat, flannel shirt, and faded blue jeans. The guards are dressed in riot gear. their helmets and face masks obscuring their features.

I can't tell who they are, but I'm sure they're the same two goons he always uses during his experiments. They've traded their usual light sidearms for automatic rifles. I don't know why Parker relies on hired muscle. He doesn't fit into the standard stereotype of a mad scientist, but instead resembles a retired linebacker, tall and broad-shouldered, with just the hint of a beer-gut form.

me. Maybe he just doesn't like to get his hands dirty. He smiles that familiar cocky smile and steps forward, the two guards following silently and step behind him. No tears, my boy, he smiles at me, and holds up a clipboard instead of the tablet that he usually carries. You should be proud. You've finally exhibited some results that can serve the foundation. What? My voice trembles as I back against the iron bars. I swallow and try again, even though I know I'm just stalling for time, savoring my brief respite of pain-filled captivity while I still can. What do you mean? The blackout, boyo, he beams and holds his hands wide. We were monitoring your cell as we always do. One of your nightmares triggered an electromagnetic pulse. You not only crippled this site, but the neighboring

towns. Truly impressive. I caused the blackout. I looked down to my glowing skin as heat rises against my back. Maybe I can use it again. I brandish both my hands open like a superhero movie. Both of the guards hesitate, but Parker bursts out laughing. His cruel laughter echoes all around me for a long minute before he wipes a tear from his eye. Oh man, you look like one of those goddamn LARPERS. He brandishes his hands in an imitation of my own. Lightning bolt. He chuckles again and shakes his head. Your powers aren't that reliable, kid. My working hypothesis is that your body stores electricity over a long period until it can't hold it anymore. You're tapped out, and we need to fill you up again. Parker looks at both the guards and nods. My head slumps as they approach, but then a low growling sound

from behind me and fills the room. The grin drops from Parker's face, and the guards freeze again. I turn around, and my heart stops. The cell is no longer empty. One eye stares out from the center of its forehead, but it has no mouth. It's hunched over, its head, cradling the ceiling, and its body looks too wide for its prison. It has two arms and two legs, but that's where the resemblance to anything human stops. The arms end in hammer-like clubs, and its feet are nothing but sharp points that cut into the stone floor. It's covered in pale gray flesh, except for black circles around its neck, wrists, and ankles. Emergency protocol, Parker snaps. Radio for T.F. Delta 9 now! Sir, the radios are still down. The creature swings its arms,

springing the iron door open. The metal slams into my chest, knocking me hard against the wall. I slump down to the ground, eyes wide with fear, as the creature slams its clubbed hand into the nearest guard. Helmet and skull crush instantly in an explosion of gore. He offers no resistance to the creature's attack, and the man's body caves and crumbles into itself like an accordion. Parker dashes into an open cell,

while the remaining guard raises his rifle. The gunfire is like an explosion in the enclosed area. My ears ring out. in pain from the noise. Tiny holes open along the creature's flesh and leak dark blood. It's one eye narrows, but it gives no reaction. It swings its hands again, knocking the guard against the wall, but it keeps swinging until the guard is nothing but a bloody pulp pinned. I hold my breath, but the creature doesn't look at me. Instead, it heads for the exit and disappears up the steps. If it plans on doing the same thing to the rest of the

the Foundation's guards and scientists, I wish it luck. My hearing returns as I climb to my feet. Parker steps out from his hiding place, his shocked face, resting on something at my feet. Through the glow of my body, I see the remaining rifle from the other dead guard. Parker bolts forward, and I do the same in a moment of clarity. We collided against each other, the gun grappled between us. I wrap my hands around the barrel, but Parker slams a fist against my nose. Bones crunch and my mouth fills with blood, and my grip on the gun loosens.

Parker tugs it away at the same time I wrap my hands around his throat. My hands struggle to get a hold around his beefy neck, and he smiles that cocky grin again as he slams another fist in my stomach. My breath goes out again, but the itching sensation returns, stronger this time, and focused on my hands. I slam an open palm against Parker's chest as electricity ripples from my skin. Parker's mouth drops open as his body convulses. The gun clatters against the ground as he collapses.

I stand and pick up the gun, refusing to give Parker time to recover. I squeeze the trigger, but I've never fired a gun in my life. It bucks in my hand like a wild animal, and I fight for control. Parker screams before the ringing engulfs my ears once more, but I keep my finger tight around the trigger until the recoil stops. My aim was less than accurate. Parker's legs are riddled with bullet holes. He lowers his hands to his legs,

his face red with rage as he screams something, but my ears are still muted from the gunfire. I take a shaky breath and hold it in my lungs. I didn't kill him. Good. A bullet would be too easy for him. I adjust my grip on the gun, grabbing it by the hot barrel,

even as it burns my skin. With all my might, I slammed the stock into Parker's head. There's still no sound. but I feel the impact. Parker raises a hand to his head. It's bloody when he holds it up in front of his face. He looks more surprised than afraid.

That changes with the next blow and the next. The sound returns to my ears with the cracking of his skull. Even when he stops screaming, I don't stop. I smash the rifle into his mouth until each of his teeth shatter, never to smile again. The gun stops before I do. It cracks in two, only after Parker's first. face is nothing more than a gaping bloody hole. I chucked the broken bits of the rifle onto the

corpse, then rest against one of the closed cells. I slumped down and fight to catch my breath. Beating a man to death is tiring work. Slowly, I stand. I hope that monster above is causing enough renewed havoc for me to make my escape. I take a step, but something wraps around my ankles and knocks me to the ground. Heat, seers around my ankle. ankles, and a scream tears itself from my throat. I fumble onto my back and hear the clattering of chains. The iron door has sprung open, and two iron manacles have wrapped around my ankles. They glow orange and red before smoke drifts up and fills my nostrils with a stench of burned meat. I reach my hands down, but two more shackles lash out from somewhere in the darkened cell,

like living pythons. They clamp down on my wrists and glow hot again as new pain seers into my flesh. My screams are cut off as the last chain, larger than the rest, strikes and locks around my throat. My body burns with pain as the chains lift me up. Blazing heat washes over my body as they pull me inside. I hear the cell door slamming behind me before it locks with a deafening click. SCP 567 is located in the dungeon beneath Site 41. It consists of a series of eight cells, designated SCP 567-1 through SCP 567-8. With the majority of people and or objects, the cells remain inert. However, when individuals meeting certain conditions come within 2.5 meters of a cell door,

shackles will materialize and launch from the inside of the cell, restraining the subject and dragging them within. Once the cell door closes and locks, both the subject and shepherds, and shackles vanish, leaving behind no trace of any kind. Each cell appears to have its own unique trigger conditions in order to activate, which seem to involve committing some sort of criminal or heretical act. On rare occasions, the cell doors of SCP 567 will open and release an entity, given the designation SCP 567-9. SCP 567-9 usually takes the form of a previously undiscovered creature and is always aggressive. Once out of its cell, SCP 567-9 typically attempts to break out of SCP 567. There seems to be no common trait of the creature given designation SCP

567-9, except that they tend to be very aggressive and relatively intelligent. As well, every instance of SCP 567-9 has had burn marks around its appendages. sur-gillet, and thence 15 minutes. We'd say that's the hour dojo,

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