The SCP Experience - The Fountain of Youth | SCP-006

Episode Date: January 2, 2023

Check out my brand new UFO podcast here: THEY'RE OUT THERE SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-006: The Fountain of Youth This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-006 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

Come on, Larry! Johnny's voice is manic and rage-filled. Come on out already! I just want to talk! I'm not falling for that one. Blood pours out of my shoulder from our last chat along with a hole blown into my side. I'm pretty sure I can see a patch of organs poking through the flesh. I hope they're not important. You know you're in desperate times when you're hoping that it's your appendix and not your liver hanging from a hole in your guts.

Johnny yells something else that I can't make out. It's either from the pounding in my ears or the withdrawal-fueled haste in Johnny's words. How long has it been since he snorted something up his nose or took a flame to a pipe? His gun opens fire, silencing the singing birds and blowing holes into trees. Too long, I guess. Johnny and I used to be thick as thieves once, literally. As I stand in my hiding spot, I can't help but think of the good old days when we first started robbing banks. days before Johnny ever contemplated using coke or meth.

Back when other robbers would be willing to work with us, the golden days, before everyone else in the trade turned their backs on us. Those days were gone and buried. Maybe if I had realized that sooner, I wouldn't be here. The bank job wouldn't have been a bloodbath. Sure, I pulled the trigger when I had to. A few guards and stray cops caught bullets from my gun when a job went. itself. But I only hurt people who collected a paycheck for that eventuality. I might have taken

hostages, but my rap sheet and conscience were clean of civilian deaths. Until today, Johnny convinced me to pull a job with him. I scouted out and did the planning, but I told him we needed bodies, and none were willing to work with us. Johnny told me not to worry that he knew some guys. Stupid. questions. I should have realized that Johnny was too far gone to vet people properly anymore. He pulled three other guys from whatever crack house he woke up in. Give a junkie, a gun, and warm bodies. All you end up with is a lot of cold bodies. Found that out the hard way. And the worst part, Johnny was laughing the whole time. Hell, he even joined in, acting like it was some fucked up video game. We made it away with the money, but didn't make it out.

clean. People were a lot more forgiving when you knocked over banks without a body count. We hid out in a cabin in the woods where Johnny had gleefully poured the money on the table. Our glassy-eyed accomplices drooled over it, and I could tell already that they were contemplating on how much they could snort up their nostrils or shoot into their veins. Sickened, I stepped outside for a cigarette when Johnny joined me. I tore into him then and there, giving him a verbal lashing that should have left his soul. soul bleeding. There I was, his oldest and last friend, and even I was done with him. If he wanted to throw his life away by working with scum like this, breaking every rule and betraying everyone

we worked with, that was on him. Stupid again. I should have known that Johnny didn't have a soul anymore. All he had left was the hollow desire and anger that nestled up in a junkie's core when they were too far gone. I flicked my cigarette, turned to leave, and the piece of lead ripped right through me. I didn't stop to ask questions. Questions were for people who weren't stupid enough to leave their gun on the table.

Another bullet found me, this time through my shoulder. Johnny's aim was off because of his withdrawal. It allowed me to make it to the tree line. Our friendship made me stupid, but I was done with that. Time to play it smart. Let Johnny fly. fire off his gun into the woods all he wanted, trying to spook me out.

He'd have to reload eventually, and then maybe I could sneak out of here. I had money holed up for a rainy day. I could pay a surgeon to disinfect and stitch up my wounds, stop the bleeding, and... The bleeding. Shit! It was still hours before the sun would go down. The woods were thick with trees, but it was the time of year when most leaves had fallen, letting the sunlight through.

The orange and yellow of the dead foliage are practically torches in the daylight. Johnny was no hunter or tracker, but even he would be able to see my blood eventually. I push off a tree and stumble as quietly as I can. Not quietly enough. The leaves make a dry crunch with every step. Fortunately, Johnny is yelling his head off again, providing all the background noise I need to cover my exit. I only have one working arm because of the slug in my head.

shoulder and it's hard at work keeping the wound in my side closed and as tight as possible I can feel the blood gushing out and leaving a trail for Johnny to follow with every step there are moments when it's impossible to measure the passage of time like in the high of a bank job when you're wrestling your adrenaline down with the plan depending on the circumstances a 20-minute job can feel like a minute or an hour walking through the woods betrayed and hunted by your best friend also makes time meaningless. It feels like I've been running for days, but I know that can't be the case. The sun hasn't gone down yet, so it must be the same day. Johnny's taunts

get further away, and a new sound grows louder, water running across rocks. It's a creek surrounded by a me. Part of me wants to bend over and have a drink, but I fight the urge. Even a city boy Boy like me knows that drinking wild water without boiling in first is not a good idea. That knowledge doesn't make my mouth any less dry or cool my scorching body. I step into the stream, hoping it will wash away the blood and make it harder for Johnny to follow me. The cold water creeps up my ankle, and it's a welcome relief to the blazing hell my body has become. Another step reveals it's deeper than it looks. My legs go out from under me, and I hear a splice.

before the cold water entombs me. My scream comes out as a gurgle. The water is fresh hell as it splashes against my open wound. The stream is no river, but I'm weightless as it carries me along. Desperate, I flail my arms, looking for any purchase. My fingers sink into soft mud and then clump onto hard rocks. As the water fills my lungs, I curse myself again. What an idiot!

survived two gunshots, only to be taken out by a creek. The pain leaves my body as a surge of adrenaline takes over. My hands grip against the mud and the rocks, using them to slingshot me to the surface. Water splashes around me. I suck in fresh air, then stutter and cough, spewing water from my lungs. A laugh escapes my lips, and even though I know how stupid it is, I raise my rock-filled hands in a celebratory fashion. My arms, both of them.

The pain in my shoulder is gone. There's a tear in my shirt, but no sign of the wound from earlier. Just water and mud from the stream. The injury in my stomach still stings, but the liver or appendix, or whatever it was, is gone. My skin is a red rash, like a sunburn. As I watch, the color fades to its usual pale shone. shade, completely unmarred. What the hell?

Well, well. Johnny breaks through the woods, loading a fresh clip into his gun as he grins at me. His remaining teeth are yellow and rotten. Look at you, Larry. Always helpful. I'm not even going to have to dump your body in a lake or nothing. I frowned at him. This fountain's not going to be deep enough to hide a body, you idiot.

You let me worry about that. Maybe it's because of the mud, but Johnny hasn't noticed that my injuries have healed. You got any last words? Yeah. I grip one of the rocks in my hand. Fuck you! I whip the rock at John's face.

The stone strikes right between his eyes with a loud crack and a gash of blood. Dazed. His gun falls limp as I charge forward, stronger and angrier than ever. I wrap my arms around John and pull a move that's been impossible since my high school wrestling days. I suplex him, his body landing hard on the ground, with a thump and cladowing. as his gun drops. Scurneying to my feet, I grabbed my former friend by the hair. He's still too dazed to offer any resistance as I drag him toward the edge of the stream. But after I shove his head into the water, his body comes to life, kicking and bucking, his breath bringing bubbles

to the surface like the water's boiling. Not this time, you son of a bitch. I shove my knee into his back and position myself so that the full weight of my body is on top of him. He still squirms, but I don't give him an inch and keep his head beneath the water. This is another one of those moments where time takes the day off. My arms ache when Johnny finally goes limp. I've earned a break. I flop down on the stream's banks and look at the sky above me. The sky has splashes of red and purple as the sun goes down.

It's beautiful. But I guess anything is beautiful after you walk away from certain death. A splash forces me back to my feet. Johnny is moving again. Some muscle spasm or nervous twitch that I've seen in some stiffs? No, his arms and legs are moving in tandem. Johnny braces himself and lifts himself from the stream. The gash from the rock is gone from his head, gagging.

He bends over and pukes a stream of water in something yellow. His teeth. His rotten teeth have fallen out and are replaced by a new set that would be welcome in a poster at the dentist's office. The water! It's the water. It healed Johnny just like it healed me. Well, we can't have that. I pick up a large and heavy tree branch, while Johnny stumbles and looks confused at his hands.

Larry? He asks and spits. What the fuck? The tree branch cuts his question short as it knocks his freshly healed tooth loose. Pity that. I crack him over the head again. This time the branch snaps in two. And I rush over to catch John before he can fall into the water again.

I drag him to the shore and drop him in the mud near his gun. I glance at it, but decide against using it. Instead, I raise my foot and stomp down on John's nose. It breaks with a satisfying crunch against my foot. He also elicits a loud scream, so I course correct and stomp on Johnny's throat. I keep it up until Johnny's face is a guaranteed closed gasket. I think it would have been a lot quicker and easier to use a gun

as I tuck it into my waistband, but I'm going to need it for what comes next. I take my time making it back through the woods, drowning a man is hard work, knocking him out, and giving him a rural curb stomping is even more draining. So, I focus on breathing and take the journey slowly to regain my strength. I was worried that the other three idiots would have fled with the money by now. It's what I would have done during a job that is so clearly gone south, but they must have had a bit of their stash. set aside for a celebration. Loud music billows through the cabin, covering my steps.

They may be idiots, but they still outnumber me three to one. That John Wick shit only works in the movies. If I kick the door in, I might be able to take one of them with the element of surprise, but that's enough time for the other two to plug me. No, no more stupid mistakes. I've made too many already. Instead, I sneak over to the SUV and hunch down behind the so just my head is poking out. Once more, taking my time, I line up my shot and aim for the window. I fire off two quick shots, shattering the glass.

Their shouts grow louder than the music. One genius storms through the door with his gun raised, but his shots go wide, not even bothering to aim. I aim for his chest and squeeze the trigger. A gunshot later, he's lying in a pool of blood, dead or dying. The other two shows slightly but he's still. Two show slightly better tactics. They rush outside together, firing their guns at the same time. My next shot goes a little high and catches my other former accomplice in the throat.

Messy, but I'll take it. The other has an automatic and lets the bullets fly, filling my ears with dents and pings as the bullets rip into the SUV's frame, but don't pierce it. My smile drops as my cover suddenly sinks six inches. A hiss tells me the prick got lucky. One of the bullets pierced the tire. I squeezed the trigger until the gun clicks empty. Most of my shots find their mark in my target's chest. But something hot pours into my lungs and knocks me on my back. The familiar warm tide of blood washes over me again.

No, god damn it, no! It's not fucking fair! I learned from my mistakes, took my time, and thought it through. I can't buy it because some crackhead got lucky twice. One bullet to the tire and one to my chest. What are the fucking odds? I flip onto my stomach, and it feels like all the blood in my body starts rushing out of my chest wound. I don't have enough strength to stand on my feet, so I start clawing my fingers into the dirt,

dragging myself across the ground. I have to get back to the fountain. I have to. Darkness rushes over my vision, wiping away all thoughts. My eyes snap open, and I bolt upright. I suck in deep breaths, gulping in the air I thought I would never taste again. Confident I'm still alive, I flounder and start slapping my chest. Once again, I have a hole in my shirt, but the wound is gone.

A triumphant laugh breaks through my lips as I pull myself up. I can't believe my luck. The effects from the fountain must be permanent. Something these poor bastards will never know. I smirk at their corpses and flip them the bird as I walk past them up the cabin steps. The money is still piled on the table. I fill it up into a nearby gym bag and seal it shut. This job ended up going a lot better than I thought.

A score this big that I don't have to share with anyone. Not only that, but it looks like I might be a fucking immortal, all thanks to that stream and... Oh shit. Miss me, Larry! Johnny's voice says from behind me, there's a roar of a shotgun blast than nothing wants more. I sit up again, still in the cabin.

but the money's gone. I hear Johnny whistling and loading the cash into the back of the SUV. Is this what it has come down to? Me and Johnny locked in an immortal game of cat and mouse while we try to wrestle the money from each other? Maybe we should try and work it out. After all, we worked well together for years. We were as good as brothers once.

And apparently, now we have all the time in the world. Maybe that's enough time to work past, even this. I see an axe near the fireplace, changing my mind. I hoisted over my shoulder and grab another discarded gun from the floor. Let's see how long it takes that traitorous motherfucker to regrow ahead. SCP6 is a very small spring at an undisclosed location. Foundation Command has been aware of its existence since the 19th century, but was unable to secure it until 1991 due to political reasons.

On the spot of the spring, a chemical factory has been constructed as a disguise, with a majority of laborers under foundation control. The liquid emitted from the spring was chemically identified as simple mineral water in 1902, but as the unusual property of health. Injusting the liquid produces the following properties in human beings, the ability to regenerate DNA damaged by sufficient duplication, heightened excitement of cellular duplication. vastly improved abilities in the repair of damaged tissue,

and an alarming increase in the effectiveness of the human immune system. Upon testing the liquid on animal subjects, hostile bacteria and viral agents were destroyed immediately. Many reptiles and birds were unaffected, while higher primates experienced the same benefits as humans. Lazzang sur-joled, puissance-moyerned for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo, ready to play!

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