The SCP Experience - The Man and the Monster | SCP-203

Episode Date: August 11, 2025

Trapped in a sterile prison room and forced into a deadly experiment, a condemned man confronts SCP-203—a tortured human-machine hybrid whose existence blurs the line between monster and victim, forcing both to face the consequences of their pasts. This story was derived from ⁠⁠https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-203 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. ⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠⁠ * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I fell asleep like usual, a filthy cot in the corner of my cell. But when I woke up, an entirely different view greeted me. Instead of concrete walls, I was surrounded by a pure white dome. The white tiles were cold beneath me, and my body suddenly ached from sleeping on the floor. Last night, I was given decent food for once, and now I knew why. They wanted to make sure I ate all of it. Whatever drugs they put in there were certainly effective. I had no idea what time it was or how long I had been asleep, or where I was for that matter.

I'd heard rumors from other inmates about D-Class, death row prisoners taken for something off the books. I figured it was just scare talk. But maybe this was it, I whispered into the void, not really expecting a reply, voice answered. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. There was nothing in the room apart from myself, but I finally noticed a large mirror hung on the far wall. I crept closer to it, unable to help myself. I hadn't seen a mirror in over five years.

The man who looked back at me was a stranger. I was a clean-cut, 25-year-old when I went in. Now I was a 31-year-old caveman. Not even a mother could love this skeletal figure recovered in long, dull hair. Even my eyes were dull. They lost their sparkle the day everything went to hell. I've been awaiting my death ever since. I thought the only time I would leave myself was to face the chair, but now I was here, and there was no manner of death in sight, unless this was some new form of euthanasia. Maybe they were draining the air from the space,

so I would die slowly and painfully, just like she did. The voice spoke again, its deep tone filling the room like a presence. D-119, you have been brought here for a testing procedure involving SCP-203. I am Dr. Zelensky, and I will be conducting this experiment. You are required to remain in this room and follow my instructions. Failure to do so will result in immediate termination. Do you understand? I continued to stare at the mirror, as it was a minute.

It dawned on me that while I couldn't see outside the room, he could see everything in it. I looked past my own image and considered the scientist on the other side. I'm part of some kind of experiment? He was probably short, with big, round glasses. What did he see when he looked at me? A man or a monster? Did he know what I did? Was that why I was here?

What do I have to do? The instructions will be given throughout the experiment. Why can't you tell me now? No answer. How long will I be stuck in here? It shouldn't matter, really. Being contained in here was no different than being in a cell. But as minutes ticked by and I received no answer,

unease crept over me. Just what kind of experiment was this? Hey, I didn't agree to this. Shouldn't I have to sign some papers or something? My voice rose an octave as a sudden panic gripped me. All Class D personality. are subject to testing upon incarceration. What? That's not fair.

At least tell me what it is. I banged my fist against the glass, but that accomplished nothing. Hello? Apparently, Dr. Zelensky was done answering my questions. I slumped against the wall with a sigh. Another scan of the room revealed nothing but a few strategically placed cameras. What was this place? At least in my cell, I knew what to expect.

I'd grown used to the smell of my own filth, the lumpy mattress, and the lack of daylight. But this room smelled like disinfectant. There wasn't a speck of dirt or grime anywhere. There was no cot or toilet in sight. My stomach growled. But I doubted the doctor would be providing a meal with this experiment. Was he trying to see how long I could last without basic provisions? If so, the joke.

was on him. Despite the subtle differences, this room was no worse than my cell. In fact, I welcomed the change of scenery. At first, anyway, as time wore on and I received no communication from the doctor or anyone else, my mind went into overdrive. I had learned to turn it off in the cell, but for some reason, it was harder to do that now. Probably because I had no idea who was watching me and what they were watching for. My mind drifted back to that day six years ago, the day that led me here. I could almost feel the way the hammer felt in my hand,

the sickening crunch as the skulls shattered after one fatal blow, and the screams that came after. And when it was all over, everything was covered in blood. My hands, the bed sheets, the walls, the floor. As I stared at the floor beneath me now, I could have sworn I saw blood there too. I tried to blink it away, but it remained. I knelt closer, and sure enough, I hadn't imagined it.

There was a tiny smear of red near the base of the wall. It looked like someone had started wiping it away, but hadn't quite finished. Maybe they left it there on purpose. Maybe it was a warning. You wouldn't even notice it unless you were looking right at it. But now that I'd seen it, it was unmist. A shiver ran down my spine. Just what kind of experiments were conducted in this room?

It suddenly dawned on me that, as a death row inmate, my life was expendable. Nobody cared about the Class D wards. We were the perfect choice to conduct dangerous, life-threatening experiments on. We were a scientist's dream, really. A human test subject they could do anything to. So what was Dr. Zelensky planning to do with the science? planning to do with me. A loud click suddenly broke the silence, and I sat upright. The wall swung inward, and a door that had been nearly invisible opened. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited

to see what would walk through it. I sighed with relief as a guard stepped into the room and tossed something to the floor a few feet away from me. Before I could see what it was, he backed away, but the door stayed open. My eyes remained glued to it, and a few seconds later, five metal prongs wrapped around the side of the door like a sharp metal spider. The figure that emerged

was the most horrifying thing I had ever seen in my life. It was an eight-foot-tall mass of mechanical engineering. The monster's spine consisted of a metal rod covered in sharp barbs. The legs had extra joints, causing it to walk on its toes like a cat, and the toes were made of a solid, solid piece of iron. But the worst part was the face. On the side of its head, there were

staples where its ears should be. The jaw and mouth consisted of a grate like a speaker, and the eyes, the eyes were human. The beast was too terrible to look at, yet I couldn't look away. I was fixed to the spot as the thing entered the room and the door clicked shut behind it. Suddenly, it was just me and the monster. The door had disappeared seamlessly into the wall again. My heart lurched to my throat, and I was struggling to breathe. Maybe they really had gotten rid of the oxygen in here. But no, it seemed that my death would come from another source. I was right about one thing, though.

I was going to die in this room. D-119. Meet SCP 203. I jumped at the sound of the doctor's voice. I could have sworn the monster's face flashed in annoyance as the man spoke. But surely that was my imagination. What am I supposed to do? My voice quivered like a coward, but anybody's would if they were faced with the beast in front of me.

Whatever you like, came the doctor's reply. I glanced at the mirror where the man was surely watching us with rapt attention. My eyes swiveled back to the mechanical monster as I weighed my options. To fight the thing would be suicide, especially with no weapon. I suddenly remembered the thing the guard threw into the room. But the second I saw what it was, I looked away. I glared at the mirror as if I could convey my anger at the doctor. These bastards.

So, they had read my file. They knew exactly what I'd done, and they knew what I did it with. A few feet from me sat a hammer, the same make and model I held in my hand all those years ago. I loathed the very thought of picking it up, but it was my only chance against the big metal monster. I took a step towards it, and the thing tensed. Its metal claws extending to their full length.

I stepped back again, and the claws retracted slightly. Interesting. Maybe I wouldn't have to fight it after all. I stepped even further from the hammer, and the beast relaxed his posture even more. My breath began to slow as I understood that I was in no immediate danger. Unless the beast killed its victims by luring them into a false sense of safety, That was a possibility I was willing to risk. I spread out my hands to show that I wasn't a threat.

And the monster nodded and retreated to the far wall, where it stood in silence. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes. We're like it's their dojo. Preet a pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino in line who proposes the more recent machine-assed machine-assoo and games of live in direct. Profite to 50 tours gratu on Big Bas Bonanza.

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50 tours gratuys on the machine-assoubeck-Bas Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10. Veal yeweree to be in a fashion responsible. The conditions apply. Now that I was able to get a good look at it, I was even more horrified. In between the bits of metal, lumps of flesh were visible.

The thing led out audible breaths. And as it did, its chest constricted in and out dramatically. as if there wasn't even a rib cage protecting its lungs. What I had first taken to be a robot with human eyes was actually something much worse. It was a human surgically melded with mechanics. Nause swept over me, and I was suddenly glad I hadn't been given anything to eat. I certainly would have lost it all now.

I forced my eyes to meet those of the creature opposite me, and I was surprised by what I found there. Despite the needles keeping them facing forward, the eyes still convey. made human emotion. The crystal blue irises seemed to flicker with curiosity and weariness. If that part of it was still human, how much else was? My name is Luke. What's yours? SAP 2003. The thing responded quickly in a grading, electronic voice.

I shook my head. No. What's your real name? It hesitated this time, as if it couldn't remember. Finally, it replied. Edward. Like Edward's scissor hands, I joked, indicating his long metal fingers. Yes. Who did this to you? The monster shook his head without replying. Why did they do it?

Again, he shook his head. Are you in pain? Lots. A surge of compassion for the man nearly made my eyes water. What could have possessed someone to destroy a human this way? I felt sorry for myself all alone in my eyes. But it turns out they were far worse punishments. Were you D-Class?

I didn't want to know the answer, but I couldn't help myself. Edward shrugged to indicate he couldn't respond, but his eyes answered for him. That was a yes. What heinous crime had this man committed to deserve such treatment? And how many others had this been done to? How long have you been like this? Again, Edward shrugged. The man had probably lost all concepts.

of time. I couldn't fathom what kind of pain he must be in day after day. Why don't you just end it all? Impossible. Edward replied simply. Why? Are you impossible to kill? Or have you been programmed, not to harm yourself? Again, Edward didn't answer. That's enough chitchette now. The doctor's voice interrupted. D-119. I want you to hit SCP-203 with that hammer. What? I glanced between Edward and the mirror.

Unsure, I had heard correctly. Pick up the hammer. The doctor repeated slowly. And hit SCP-203. I swallowed. I'm not going to do that. Do it now. I shook my head and backed further away from the hammer.

No, I don't want to. D-119. I must remind you that failure to follow my instructions will result in your immediate termination. His tone made it clear that termination was the equivalent of death. I was in a literal kill or be-killed situation. Sure, I had killed before, but not like this.

Edward and I were the same. We were both puppets. We had real feelings and emotions. Who was I to threaten him? But if Edward was impossible to kill, the hammer wouldn't do anything, right? I could just hit him lightly, not enough to even cause any damage.

Of course. that required me to pick up the hammer. I took a deep breath and stepped towards it. Edward tensed. Edward, I'm not going to hurt you. You have to trust me, okay? Edward shook his head back and forth, but didn't say anything.

His eyes bulged in his head like he wanted to speak but couldn't. I looked away from him as I bent down and picked up the tool. It felt heavy in my hands, like the weight of those deaths was attached to it. Screams filled my ears as I was brought back to that night. Luke, what have you done? She shrieked. She looked at me like I was a stranger,

but apparently she was a stranger to me, too. You did this, I told her as I glanced back at the gore and blood, covering the bed where the man lay lifeless in the sheets. I raised the hammer again, and she fell backwards onto the floor. Luke! I blinked the memory away and tried to focus on what was in front of me. Edward's claws were first. fully extended again, and his posture was poised for attack.

One blow, I whispered to Edward as I adjusted the hammer in my hand. It occurred to me that one blow was all it took to kill a man, but Edward was no ordinary man. I could only hope that he would stop attacking me as soon as I backed away, because if he didn't, I stood no chance against him. I said softly as I stepped towards him. Edward was still shaking his head. I avoided his eyes as I raised the weapon.

My limbs were tense as I prepared to run as soon as I landed the blow. Not that there was anywhere to go, but I wanted to get as far away from those claws as I could. I gathered my courage and rushed towards him. I tapped the hammer on his metal shoulder. He didn't react like I thought he would. I immediately dropped the hammer and backed away, but he made no move to attack me. Instead, he emitted a loud screeching noise that had me clasping my hands to my ears. Edward! Edward, stop!

I doubted he could hear me, but after a few moments, the sound stopped. My ears were still ringing, and my head was pounding, but I was able to lower my hands from my ears. Before I could say anything, the door opened again, and a guard wearing sound protection walked in to guide Edward away. He looked at me and said something I could barely hear over the ringing. I'm sorry. Then he was gone.

It was just me and the hammer. I slumped to the ground. my head in my hands. I was relieved the experiment was over, and that it hadn't been worse. But the hammer brought back all the memories I'd spent years trying to repress, and that damn ringing wouldn't stop. I glanced at the mirror. Can I go now? Not yet. Dr. Zelensky responded.

Isn't the experiment over? No answer. Did they have something else planned? Was the ordeal with Edward just the beginning? I couldn't think straight with the way my head was pounding. I had no idea how I would deal with something else while I was like this. Something trickled down my neck, and when my fingers touched it, they came away red. My anxiety spiked.

What exactly had Edward done to me? Was this ringing never going to go away? Is that why he apologized? I placed my head between my knees, and more blood dripped to the floor. It was coming out of my nose now. This was not good. Something wasn't right. My body seemed to be rebelling against itself.

Doctor, I need help. Please! Surely he could see what was happening. Any minute now, guards would enter to take me to the infirmary. The experiment is not complete. What do you mean? How is it not? But I couldn't finish the sentence.

As I began choking on the blood rising in my throat. I coughed, blood spattering all over the clean white tile. My eyes welled, but as my vision turned red, I realized it wasn't with tears, but more blood. It seemed to be coming from every orifice. I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. I could only feel the sticky substance all around me. I slipped on it as I tried crawling towards the door.

Please! I begged more blood spilling from my mouth. But it seemed that all of this was part of the experiment too. In fact, maybe this was the experiment. Edward had been created as a killing machine. and now they wanted to know how effective he was. Edward hadn't been apologizing for the pain. He apologized for killing me.

That's why he didn't want me to hit him. He couldn't help himself, couldn't prevent this reaction, just like I didn't prevent mine six years ago. But, unlike Edward, if I'd tried hard enough, I could have stopped. I could have dropped the hammer. I could have walked away. But Edward had no choice.

His body reacted the way it was made to, and there was nothing he could do about it. And once again, I had chosen to pick up the hammer. Both times, that choice cost me my life. But this time, death was rapidly approaching. I wouldn't be returning to my cell. I thought that Edward was human like me. But maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I was a monster like him. Maybe we both got what we deserved. SCP 203 is a heavily augmented humanoid entity. Once a Caucasian male, now standing 2.5 meters tall, with its skeletal structure entirely replaced by a cast iron mechanical framework that functions independently of its musculature. Its body is grotesquely modified, sharpened meter-long finger barbs, welded transducer in place of a mouth, digitagreed legs with steel tubing, and flesh torn or stapled to reveal or accommodate the metal beneath. SCP 203 expresses constant pain and confusion, claiming no memory of its past life, and speaks in a mysterious Arabic dialect through its faceplate transducer. It is powered by an internal cell lasting 72 hours before entering a brief hibernation.

Attempts to examine or alter it trigger violent defense mechanisms, and it can emit a neurological disruptive high-frequency drone when threatened. While it regularly requests pain relief, staff are instructed to dismiss these as manipulative behavior.