The SCP Experience - The Protector | SCP-204

Episode Date: January 19, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-204: The Protector This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-204 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Lucas Click Discover the Author's impressive series of SCP Tales here: https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0BVWJFGV3 Check out more of Mr. Click'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

I'm good at counting, but there's more to it than that. There's also the way I notice things around the compound, like the guards. I know each of their shifts by heart now, and can recognize them from the distinct patterns of their footsteps. Right now, Rick is walking up and down the rows of bunks, lined with me and the other teenagers. The latest, a pair of twins about the age of 16, lie in the same bed, holding each other for warmth.

They keep their eyes closed and act like they're sleeping. And it would work if not for the occasional twitch of their bodies. The guards probably can't tell. But like I said, I'm good at noticing things and picking up patterns. And many kids have come and gone through the bunks. I want to tell them that they don't have to worry. They still have another two years before they're old enough to sleep in the master's manner. We don't undergo the special training until we're 18, which I won't be for.

another year. I'm the only teen who's ever begun his lessons early before being moved from the juvenile bunks. Because you're special. The master's whisper makes me shudder and twists my stomach. My parents told me that I should be proud that he's taken such an interest in me. The master's teaching says it's time for me to learn independence, to discover how I can contribute to the family in my own way. I've always been good at remembering dates and figures. But it wasn't until the master noticed how bored I was in math class, that he realized my inattentiveness wasn't because I'm lazy. He gave me advanced algebra books and discovered I'm not just better at math and the other students.

I'm better than the family's teachers as well. All the better to one day teach children about the family and the master's path toward salvation. A scholar in the body of the angel. He whispered that in my ear as he rested his large hands. hands on my shoulders. Angels. It's what he calls all the teenagers too young to be his prophets and training. But since I'm unique, I've been getting some tutoring early. I see something in the master's eyes when he looks at me. It's the same way he looks at the young prophets, those who learn at the master's feet in exchange for waiting on his every need and desire.

I need to get out of here before that happens. That's why I can't bring myself to comfort the twins. I can't do anything that will bring attention to my escape plans. I wait for Rick to complete his rounds, his flashlight checking each bunk before stepping outside. The door clicks locked beside him, and I fight past the urge to rush out of bed and dash for freedom. Too soon. Rick always enjoys a cigarette after making his rounds. He'll remain posted for at least another seven minutes. I wait and listen to the twins as their breathing slows into a steady pattern as they finally drift off to sleep. Lewis, a couple of beds over, farts loudly before turning on his side, as he does every night.

Another ten minutes pass before Raquel starts snoring. Everyone's asleep, and Rick should be finished with a cigarette. It's now or never. Sliding out from under my blanket, I reach under the mattress and find the protector. Children are allowed one toy in the commune until the age of four. After that, we begin schooling, taking our first steps into adulthood. To mark this passage, the master commands us to destroy the toy with our bare hands. This symbolizes abandoning our childhood and to replace it with our love for the master,

putting him before all else. It's also when we're removed from our homes, moved to the bunks, and cut off from our parents. off from our parents. Something about the ritual always sat wrong with me. Even at just four, I knew there was something inherently wrong about making a child destroy his toy. The smiles of the master and the other adults watching always felt out of place. They sat besides the crying children as they destroyed the one possession that was all their own. But it wasn't until I was granted the Master's advanced learning materials that I found the right words to adequately convey why it's wrong.

It's a brainwashing tool, one designed to make us subservient to the Master's will. He can provide us with the one thing we desire and take it away just as easily. The Master doesn't know I've been reading other materials from his library. While the works of psychology and philosophy have given me the tools to recognize his behavior, is a much older and simpler word to describe his actions. I still remember my one and only toy, a purple-furred and blue-eyed teddy bear with a large yellow star in the center of its white tummy. I carried him everywhere I went, performing one-sided conversations and hugging him close. When I turned four, the master put a pair of scissors in my hands. I refused at first,

defying him in the only way a four-year-old can. I stood and cried while he shouted at me until I did what he wanted. Through tear-filled eyes, I jammed the shears through the bear, ripping through the fuzzy cloth, exposing its fluffy guts. The master and my parents were ecstatic.

No one saw me snatch up a scrap of my old teddy bear's fabric. Shame and fear dropped on my shoulders, weighing me down. My parents told me that the master was all-knowing. It was only a matter of time before he grabbed me by the arm and punished me for my blasphemy. Only that the celebration continued with wine being passed among the adults. When it finally ended, I was escorted to my new home in the barracks.

After I was sure everyone was asleep, I pulled the fabric from my pocket. All I had been able to save for my old friend was his star-adorned chest. Something radiated from the piece of cloth. It bolstered me with the confidence that I didn't possess before. I knew I had to repair the toy, leaving it as it was felt wrong, like I was holding onto a piece of tanned flesh, stripped from the corpse of a friend. Slowly, over time, my new guardian was born.

A few pilfered feathers from the pillows filled his insides again. Old springs from a bed no one used became his new arms and legs. The head is what's changed the most. It's hard to find toys here, but after another child's elevation to the bunks, I managed to steal the head of a decapitated one-eyed pink bunny. I looked down at the results of years of secret labor, studying the mangled and salvaged pieces of toys and cloth that gave the mangled toy new life.

It became clear early on during my repairs that my bear would need a new name. I wanted to hold on to those more innocent memories of my youth, but I was growing up. My new creation was as much a show of rebellion as it was a source of comfort. I didn't need a toy anymore. I needed someone to protect me from the master. I hesitated before coming to a decision and left the protector on my pillow. He's provided me much comfort over the year. but I'm too old to cling to my past.

And besides, maybe it will inspire one of the other children. Maybe when they hear about my escape, they'll look at the protector and hide it before the guards discover him. Perhaps it will inspire them to one day flee themselves. Yes, I'm too old for such things. But I freeze in place when I cover half the distance from my bed to the door. I rush back on quiet feet and pick up the door. gripping it furiously to my chest,

not caring how the cold springs bite into my skin. Look after them, protect her. With my goodbye said, I pulled the bobby pin hidden behind my ear and get to work on the locked door. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes.

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the compound at night is no different than walking on the surface of an alien planet. I've never seen it at this time of day before. Other than from occasional glimpses from the barred windows

within the barracks. A tingle of excitement, mingled with dread, creeps up my spine with every step. The moon casts a pale light around everything, making deep pools of shadows near the outcroppings of the dwellings, promising threats that I've never even dreamed of. A deep, quiet breath helps calm my mind. Everything has to be quick and silent from here on out. My knowledge of the compound beyond the barracks and the master's school is bare, withheld for me on purpose.

I walk slowly and steadily, pausing after each step, listening for the sound of approaching guards. All I have to do is keep up this pace until I get to the main gate. From there, it should be easy to slip out and... A loud snap causes my mind to slam shut on my thoughts like a heavy coffin lid.

Hold and still, I stare into the darkness, looking for the sound's source. The compound is surrounded by woodlands on three sides. like an inland peninsula. It's not uncommon to hear coyotes or wolves how late at night from the woods, making the children too scared to venture far from the master's protection. The woods are a known danger. One I know needs to be avoided.

Yet, as I stare, they appear alive in the moonlight. I remind myself of my situation. I'm trying to sneak out using the cover of darkness. It's only natural to imagine things after finally breaking loose from under the master's thumb. Of course, I'm going to remember his lessons on the destroyer, the one who threatens the salvation of the master's followers. Another lie to keep us compliant while he, there's another snap, but it's louder than before. My rational thoughts struggle to keep up with my imagination until I finally see what's wrong. The trees are rustling,

but there's no win. One leans on its side, slowly uprooted by the shadow leaning against it. It's too tall to be human, too big to be any animal. When its head turns in my direction, its glowing eyes pierce the night and stare directly into mine. There's no room in my head for thoughts or plans anymore. My mind is overwhelmed by my boy's sudden and undeniable command to run. Evolution, not any conscious decision, sends me running for my life. I no longer care about making it to the main gate in secret. All I want to do is live. As my feet scurry past the barracks, I squeeze my eyes tight, but I can still see those glowing eyes. I scream as the monster reaches down and grabs me roughly by the arm. My imagination does all the work for me, picturing me being hoisted high in the sky and dropped into the open

mouth of the waiting beast. A sharp blow across my face disperses the visions from my mind and knocks me to the ground. Knock that shit off right now, or I'll give you something to cry about. makes me uncurl from the ball I tucked myself into. Rick stands over me. His massive outlines shouted by the moon. He smiles at me with tobacco-stained teeth. Well, if it isn't a master's little golden boy, oh, I'm going to have fun wiping that smart-ass look off your face.

I crawl away from Rick, which makes him laugh even louder. My lips quiver, and I make sure that he keeps his eye on me and not the glowing orbs above his head. He doesn't suspect a thing until I grinned. His amusement gives way to fury. He raises his fist and swears as metal glints off the moonlight. Riggs staggers to the side. Blood gushing from his neck before his head topples from his shoulders.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. It's something I've read in a book, but I can't remember which one. With Rick's headless body twitching near me, I know my mind is latching onto something, trying to keep my mind sane. It's only half successful, but I can't help but stare at the towering figure before me and wonder if I'm next. When I couldn't see it through the trees, I thought it had to be some giant monster, maybe even the destroyer himself. But now I realize I was mistaken. Metal glints off it from head to toe.

Ten feet above me, a domed helmet looks down at me. Its glowing eyes are electric, not demonic. impractically long, curved blade is in the thing's hands, stained with Rick's blood. It's impossible, but there's no other explanation. A robot? Something like that. The voice snickers as I notice movement by the robot's leg. The boy is a few years older than me, wearing torn jeans and a battered leather jacket. His dark hair is slicked back with either gel or grease.

While his movements are cocky, his smile is gentle as he reaches down. and pulls me to my shaking feet. Hey, I know you, right? He asks, then snaps his fingers. The math whiz, right? We had a couple of classes together when I was stuck here at Cult You. Peeling my eyes away from the robot samurai is the hardest thing I've ever done.

And not just because it's a fantastic sight. Rick's headless corpse is still near me. Steam, radiating off the blood and rising into the night sky. My stomach clenches, making it easier, to focus on the boy grinning at me. He's aged quite a bit since the last time I saw him. A growth spurt has made him as tall as most grown-ups, clashing with his rail-thin appearance

and the clothes pulling around his body, several sizes too big. His hair is different, too. All teens receive the same haircut after moving to the barracks, but that cocky smile is still the same. It would remain in place even as the teacher screamed in his face. Tim? I can't help but stare.

But you died? Come on, kid. You're supposed to be smarter than that. We're living out here in isolation under the master's protection. He doesn't need the air quotes for the last word. His voice is filled with contempt, but he does them anyway. They couldn't let it slip that one of their kids escaped. So I must have died.

Did they have a funeral for me? Did anyone cry? Tim's explanation makes sense. Would they do the same thing when I ran away? Spin a yarn about how I came down with an ailment and entered the Lord's bosom under the guidance of the master. After being served, that logical explanation, I can't help but focus again on the one thing

that still doesn't make sense. My eyes flick back to the giant robot and its bloody sword. Tim drapes his arm casually over my shoulder, forcing me to look back at him. Don't worry about the big guy. He's with me. Well, more or less. And you can save us a lot of time and effort if you tell me where Tanya is.

Tanya, Tim's older sister, the obedient foil to his constant tomfoolery. She graduated from the bunks a while ago. We had never been close due to our age difference, but I had seen her a few times in passing during my sessions with the master. She graduated last year. She's a profit in training now, I hesitate. Unsure if Tim needs to know the other. information I'm holding back. But then I remember Rick's body. Tim could always be a little

unpredictable. And now that he's got a giant murder machine in tow with him, I'm not sure if discretion is the better course of action. And she's one of his betrothed. I flinch as Tim's nails dig into my shoulder. The betrothed are the young prophets who serve as the master's husbands and brides, assigned the responsibility of producing a reincarnated heir for the master's consciousness. The robot's eyes flash red, and it turns from us, taking a lumbering step toward the compound. Tim pats my shoulders and offers me one of his smiles again. If you're going to make a break for it, now would be your best bet. Or stick around and watch the show.

He spins to walk backward and shoots me a familiar wink. Things are about to get loud. Once again, I'm torn between two courses of action. Stay and see what Tim has in store for the mall. or make my escape. I know which path is the wiser one, the one that I've spent months planning for. Guards shout, disrupting my train of thought, gunfire, screams of pain, and other sounds of destruction echo throughout the compound. I look down at Rick's body and know that it could have so easily been me. Yes, it's clear which decision is the safe one. Yet, I can't

help but think of Rick's final moments. He was always a vindictive and cruel guard. Was some small part of me happy that Rick finally met his end? There's only one way to find out. I heard after Tim following his trail of destruction. It's not a challenging trail to follow. Buildings have been torn from their foundations, cracked down the middle by his robot's giant sword. The compound comes to life with screams from the camp's residence. lights flicker into existence around me as an electric hum fills the air, buzzing beneath my skin. The heightened sense of alarm doesn't slow Tim down. His robot leads the way, sparing only a few buildings. After several observations, Tim's pattern becomes apparent. The only dwellings the mechanical

samurai ignores are the ones housing teens and children. None of the guards, however, are spared. Their bodies lie in pieces, cut cleanly in half by the katana as it slices through. Blood and entrails litter the ground, and the guards do something I never thought possible. They break formation and flee up the hill, screaming for the master to save them. Tim and his robot take time chasing them. Their stride never breaking or accelerating. My stomach quickly grows used to the sight of blood, even though I nearly threw up looking at Rick's body a few minutes ago. I keep following Tim. Something compels me forward.

I can't explain it, but I know I'm about to witness something important, and I can't miss it. The guards have retreated to the master's estate. The master stands on the porch, glaring at Tim. I resist the urge to bow to him. The master's not alone. In addition to the guards,

his betrothed stand on each side of him, boys and girls between the ages of 18 and 25. One girl has the same dark hair as Tim. Emboldened by their numbers, or maybe the presence of the master, the guards find their courage once more. Their barrage of gunfire is deafening, and I throw myself onto the earth, clinging for dear life. A cloud of gunpowder wafts in the air.

It's silence washing over us. Before I finally raise my head, the samurai stands over Tim. His sword held in a defensive stance, both unharmed. Yeah, that's not going to work, Andre. I gasp, as Tim says the master's name. It's a shocking offense and makes the guards falter while reloading their weapons. Tim struts toward the center of the porch and opens his arms wide. You've seen what I can do.

Don't get me wrong, nothing would make me happier than burning this place to the ground and pissing on the ashes. But I'm kind of on a schedule here. So you get one chance. Hand over my sister, and I'll spare your pathetic little compound. The master smiles, but his face twitches like he's wearing a mask several sizes too small. He holds up a hand, and Tanya rushes to his side, only for him to whisper something in her ear. Tim tenses, and the samurai repositions itself, adjusting the sword for an attack, but the master's smile grows. Easy boy, just saying farewell to my bride. Tim! Tanya rushes toward him.

The bloodthirsty confidence vanishes from Tim's body as he runs away from his robot. He's no longer an agent of destruction. Just a boy, happy to be in his sister's arms again. Tears run down Tanya's face as Tim wraps his arms around her right before his shoulder slack and go limp. He staggers back and my throat clenches. The hilt of a dagger sticks out of Tim's chest. Why? Tim manages to get out a croaked whisper before dropping to his knees.

I'm sorry. Tanya's apology is an anguished towel as she cradles her stomach. I'm so sorry, but he threatened my baby. I'm sorry, Timmy. I'm so sorry. The samurai rears back on its legs, and a sound equal parts human and beast rips through the air, sending the guards tumbling for their weapons. Before they can squeeze the trigger, the robot bursts into a cloud of swarming insects.

They dart through the air in all directions, swarming the guards as they howl in pain. Tanya cries out, cupping her face as a gash of blood runs down her cheek. Broken from the spell, I turned to run, but the swarm is everywhere. I scream, breathing in thousands of tiny machines. An army of ants made from lava rushes down my throat. I feel them with every breath, filling my lungs, and working toward my heart, bumping through my body.

They're everywhere, clogging my entirety with their presence. The more I breathe, the more I change. My body feels stronger. The tiredness and fatigue banishes from my limbs. My fear follows it, replaced with a slow, steady confidence mingled with rage. The swarm pulls back from the guards and gathers in front of me. Only a few have survived the attack, but they've managed to reload. Their bullets bounce off the insectile machines as they solidify before me, taking a new shape.

It's as tall as the samurai, but its body is covered in purple fur, with a bright blue star on its chest. I don't even have to give it a command. It reaches out, taking a ribbon of my rage with it and strikes. Its arms fling forward on coiled pieces of metal. They rip through the guards, leaving them as broken and bleeding husks on the ground. The master, seeing the new threat, grabs two of his betrothes and thrust them in front of him. It's only a matter of visualization to get the arms to do what I want. They snake around the barrier of teenage hostages and grip each of the master's anchors.

The master screams as his body is ripped down the middle. A shower of gore reigns onto the decks as he lands in two broken but even pieces. The arms retract back to the protector, and it takes one step forward. Its massive legs make the ground shake and knock Tanya off her feet. The large foot shatters her small frame. Shatters her small frame as it lowers, but it jerks to a halt as I command the robot to stop. It's like trying to hold onto a storm.

I can't explain it, but the robot is powered by rage. Its bloodlust isn't dispent. It wants to deliver more destruction and avenge its former master. I look at Tim's corpse, but don't release my control over the protector. It's my mind is at war, struggling to form words while holding my creation back. It's not what he would have wanted. The robot freezes as if processing my information and then lowers its foot beside Tanya. Ezekiel!

I haven't heard their voices in so long that I almost don't recognize them. My parents have broken away from the crowd of terrified adults gathered around me. They fling themselves on the ground before me and are soon joined by the rest. We're so proud of you, honey. My mother beams, her eyes glistening with tears. You did it! You're the new moon. Master. My mother's fear echoes in every voice that picks up her chant. None of these adults

were guards. They weren't in charge of beating discipline into us. Their crimes were much worse. They pulled us from normal society and kept us in isolation with a madman. The people who were supposed to protect us forced us to be victims of the master's pleasure. The rage builds in me and the robot's eyes flash red, cutting off the praise from the adults. I press my hand against the protector's leg and feel power radiating beneath the cold steel. Protect us! I bore my thoughts into my command, imagining the faces of all the boys and girls. Protect us from the adults. All the adults.

The robot lumberes forward. His fingers transforming into whirring blades. My parents are the first to scream as my commands are carried out. SCP 204-1 is a semi-organic nanomachine colony that follows SCP-2. 204-2 as a form of protector. SCP 204-1 spends the majority of its time in a dispersed cloud, where it is almost impossible to perceive with normal human senses. However, if SCP-204-2 is put into danger, or if SCP 204-2 commanded to,

SCP 204-1 will instantaneously materialize into a solid physical form. The exact shape and nature of this form is subjective, depending wholly upon SCP 204-2's view, state of mind, and imagination. Despite its variable nature, SCP 204-1 has a number of common traits. These include massive strength, large size, basic intelligence, perfect obedience to SCP 204-2, and the ability to regenerate itself after consuming living flesh. SCP 204-1 is vulnerable to conventional weaponry and can be temporarily forced back into its dispersed state

if enough damage is inflicted. SCP 204-2 is always a child, ranging from 4 to 14 years old. Physically, there is nothing outstanding about SCP 204-2 besides its ability to call upon SCP 204-1. All incidences of SCP 204-2 have common traits. All of them have had a history of abuse and danger, with many developing acute mental disorders as a result.

This makes instances of SCP 204-2 difficult to contain in any traditional manner, as great care must be taken to keep them in a stable state. It appears that SCP 204-1 is attracted to such children, though why or how it finds them is currently unknown. If SCP 204-2 is terminated or reaches the age of 14, then SCP 204-1 will abandon it and find a new child to imprint on. As a form of self-preservation, if SCP 204-1 cannot find a suitable child, it will immediately materialize and go berserk attacking anything in sight.

At first, SCP 204-1 appears benign, protecting SCP 204-2 from overt threats. However, through careful study and observation, it has been known. noted that all incidences of SCP 204-2 begin to adopt much more aggressive, danger-seeking behavior with little regard for human life. It is theorized that SCP 204-1 is able to manipulate SCP-204-2's thought processes in order to behave in a fashion that would benefit it.