The SCP Experience - The Sasquatch Massacre | SCP-1000

Episode Date: April 8, 2022

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-1000: The Sasquatch Massacre This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1000, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com 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

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The conditions apply. What the hell is going on? I yell into Ricard's ear, grabbing his arm as he rushes past. I have to shout to be heard because there are alarm claxons and interspersed announcements blaring. Word is, we're going to war.

Ricard says, eyes wide like a rabbit that's just been pulled out of some magician's stinky hat. War? With who? I shout. Foundation employees are running around us in all directions,

heading to wherever they're supposed to be. Amos? Ricard says. I'm just assuming from the announcement. Didn't you hear it? Our group needs to gear up and meet at garage level three. I didn't hear the announcement.

I had my fancy headphones on while lying on my bed. It was only when my dorm mate, Sharp, ran in that I knew something was up. I shake my head at Ricard. I'm off shift. Not anymore, you're not. Now let's go.

We don't want to be the last to show up. I follow Ricard down the wide concrete hallway. dodging people as they hurry in every direction. All the doors along the main corridor are open, which is something I've never seen before, just like I've never seen this many people at once in the facility. Something really big must be going down. We get to the supply room,

where the flurry of activity is even more pronounced. Men and women are putting on armor, and filling their packs with essentials. Ricard and I split up to do the same. When we're done, we head into the next room in line, which is the armory. Four Foundation quartermasters stand behind a metal partition. They're essentially in a big cage. The doors to the cage are open, and there's a line of foundation personnel waiting to get their weapons. The four quartermasters work as fast as they

can in two teams, one of them taking the name and number and putting it into a handheld tablet, while the other one fetches the weapon and ammo assigned to the Foundation Tactical Response Officers. I get in line a couple of spots behind Ricard, and we make our way through in only a few minutes. Then we move into the garage and double-time it up to Level 3. There are lines of transport trucks idling on Level 3, half of which are just filling up as we get in line to board them. I spot Lieutenant Driscoll, yelling at people to get onto the appropriate trucks, so I know I'm in the right place. I'm in the same squad as Ricard, so we stick together as the line moves. Driscoll sees us and points to a truck yelling,

Go, go, go, go! We get into the back of the canvas cover transport truck, and the vehicle lurches as soon as it's full. There's some chatter from the 24 people in the truck, but mostly people are checking their weapons and clips. I look over and see my dorm mate, Sharp, giving him a nod. I checked the serial number on my M4 carbine, which I should have done as soon as I got it.

It's the right number, meaning it's the rifle I've trained with since becoming a tactical response officer. I checked the clips and see that they're fully loaded. The truck comes to a stop and we get out, heading directly for a transport plane. It's a clear, cool night, and there's a full moon rising to the east.

I see Captain Powell standing at the ramp at the C-130 plane, directing us on. Another 10 minutes pass and we're in the air. There's about 120 of us in the plane, making up a company. Captain Powell stands up in the middle of us and shouts to be heard. I'm sure you're all wondering what the hell is going on. Well, I'm here to tell you.

And I ask that you keep your snickers and jokes to yourself. Because what I'm about to tell you is deadly serious. Powell pauses to look around. His hard blue eyes hammering the point home. He's not fucking around. We are going to fight a large and dangerous group of SCP 1,000 entities. Those of you who take your job seriously will know that the layman's term for this entity is Sasquatch or Bigfoot. Little pockets of chatter bubble up around the plane's interior.

Powell shouts for quiet. The tendons in his neck standing out as he sweeps his laser-like gaze across all of us. Forget everything you think you know about Sasquatch, he says. Even if you've studied our internal material on this SCP, you don't know shit. Because, until now, we haven't wanted you to know shit, so shut up and listen. The plane is now quiet of voices, but Powell still has to yell to be heard over the constant drone of the engines and the air flowing around the plane's hull. Pretty much everything we fed the public has been designed to make Bigfoot seem like a joke. But nothing could be further from the truth.

Likewise, everything you may have read in our internal documents is, designed to keep you away from these instances. The whole thing about the death aura, the thing about looking at one of these Sasquatches and dying, is bullshit. You won't die if you look at one of them. And that's important to know because you'll need to look at them to kill them, because the threat they pose is very real. I listen intently to what Powell is saying. I've read the internal documents about SCP-1000, but now I have a hundred questions. Mainly, I want to know how it is that these things managed to get the drop on the foundation if we've had them under surveillance the whole time. These creatures are smart,

Powell continues. Their intelligence is equal to ours in most ways, but they have an understanding of the natural world that we don't. And we now know that they have some kind of technology that we don't understand. We thought that there were only a few small. small pockets of these entities, but they've been able to trick us somehow. There are a hell of a lot more of them than we thought, and they're making a move on us. So it's up to us to stop them. Sir, how many of them are there? This comes from a guy named Anderson near the back of the plane.

Well, we don't exactly know, Pell says. What we do know is that there can't be as many of them as there are of us. They may have hidden their numbers well, but it's just not possible that they are a match for our numbers. I look over at Ricard, who meets my eyes only for a moment. He wasn't ready for this. None of us were. Sure, we trained for field operations, but not for a war. Not really. Our specialty is containment and capture. And here we are going into battle with entities whose capabilities we know next to nothing about.

The plane dips, and Powell sits down as we make our descent. Everyone is quiet as we land and board more transport trucks. After 15 minutes of driving, we unload on a dirt road in the woods. The trees around us are massive, and I realize that they're redwoods. We line up on the road, looking off into the dark woods, waiting for orders. There is a soft mist everywhere, making the forest seem dreamlike and sinister. The light from the full moon streams down through the treetops, refracting off the water droplets in the mist to make visibility difficult. We move into the woods at the behest of Sergeant Burke, our squad leader.

Sharp and Ricard are both in my squad, and we stick together as we creep into the forest. Our company is stretched out in a line, moving slowly into the woods. We've been given permission to shoot on site anything that's big enough to be a man. The mist seems to grow denser as we move deeper into the forest. The giant trees everywhere make for ideal hiding places for any hostels. Every tree we come to poses a potential threat, and I find my heart hammering away against the armor-strapped tight over my chest. Gunfire comes from way off to our left.

I look that way, seeing the muzzle flashes as more and more people shoot into the woods. Someone screams. People shout. Gunfire erupts from close by to my right. I whip my head that way to see a man getting yanked off his feet behind the tree. The people around him start firing, yelling that they've made contact. The guy's body comes flying back from behind the tree, smashing into three guys in a line, knocking them down. A giant log comes swinging down on ropes and smashes one man against the tree with a gruesome crunching sound.

I see movement nearby and duck just as another log comes swinging down at me. It hits sharp and sends him flying into the guys next to him. Something flashes through the mist near eye, and I fire a few shots, but it's gone. I see Ricard behind me, looking off into the woods with slid eyes. Chaos is erupting all around us, men firing and screaming for medics, the sound of logs swinging down and crashing into people. The cries for help as guys get pulled off into the darkness. I catch a glimpse of a large, furry creature just as it slips behind a tree ahead.

I signal to Ricard, and we each take one side of the tree. The Sasquatch rushes around my side, catching me off guard. Its yellow eyes glowing, shining fear directly into me. I fire my weapon from the hip while stepping back, tripping on a large route. The bullets strike the creature up the center of its body, puncturing it first in the abdomen and then the head before I hit the ground and stop firing. The creature, which must be seven feet tall at least, takes two steps and then falls forward, dead. Ricard comes up behind it and shoots it several more times.

in the back while I get up. Bullets work? The card says. Bullets work just fine. He smiles at me. A large hairy hand reaches down from the tree and grabs Ricard around the neck, pulling him up the side of the tree as if he were connected to a rope.

I track around, aiming my weapon up, seeing the creature move up the side of the tree using only one arm and its legs. Its glowing yellow eyes look coldly back at me as it moves. Even with only three limbs, and despite being huge, the thing moves with a full. fluidity even chimpanzees would be jealous of.

I aim, but I have no shot. Not with Ricard hanging there like he is. As the Sasquatch reaches the cover of branches, he drops Ricard. I shout out in dismay, but there's nothing I can do but watch. It's at least a 70-foot drop. Ricard doesn't scream. His eyes dart to mine just before he hits the ground. All I see there is a plea for help.

A help I cannot give. Ricard's bones shatter as he hits the ground. He bounces and comes to rest in a broken jungle. I fire up into the tree, even though I can't see the Sasquatch any longer. The sounds of battle are fading away, and I bring my attention down from the tree to look around. People crouch around me, waiting for more Sasquatches to attack, but it seems like a lull in the battle. Sharp is lying on the ground 15 yards away, struggling to sit up. He looks mangled from the log that hit him.

I run over and grab him, dragging him back toward the road, shouting for a medic as I go. Oh no! A man near me says, looking off into the woods. I look up and see ranks of large figures off in the mist. Their features are obscured by the darkness and the fog, but I can see the outlines of their heads and shoulders. And I can see their eyes clearly, as clearly as if they're emitting light instead of reflecting it. They're the kind of eyes that are made for darkness.

There must be hundreds of the figures lined up in the woods. Movement catches my eye, and I look up into the trees, seeing even more of the figures sitting on branches or clinging to the sides of the trunks like giant, four-legged spiders. All the remaining foundation tactical response and security personnel grow quiet, looking off into the woods. There's too many of them, and we all know it. We don't stand a chance.

On some silent command, the creatures move, rushing forward to finish us off. I grit my teeth and bring my weapon up, and I squeezed the trigger. I squeezed the trigger on my M4 carbine, spraying bullets into the giant hairy figures, rushing through the mist at me and my fellow tactical response officers. Dead bodies litter the ground around me, and most of them are human. The Sasquatches are simply too powerful, too fast, and too comfortable in the redwood forest, they call home. We're in their territory, and it's plain to see from their traps and the way they got the drop on us that they were ready for us. The fight hasn't even been on for 10 minutes now, and we're already

taking heaving losses, and we're about to take more. I realize as my gun clicks empty, as I remove my spent click, I look up into a tree just in time to see a hairy figure with glowing yellow eyes jump down at me. I try to move out of the way, but I'm just not fast enough. The Sasquatch brings one meaty fist down, smashing it into my helmet. I can almost feel my spine crack as I fall down, and I'm surprised to find that my neck still works as I look up from the ground. Somehow, I still have my M4 in my hand, and I reach for a clip in a pocket on the front of my armor. But the guerrilla-like figure slams its foot down on my chest, knocking the breath out of me. Its huge appendage conceals my clips, making them impossible to reach. It pushes down on my armor, slowly crushing my

chest. I reach down and pull my pistol out of its holster, but the hairy figure swats at it out of my hand, like a child with a toy. Looking around in desperation as the creature compresses my chest, I see that the few remaining SCP officers won't be coming to my rescue. They're being killed, their limbs torn off, and heads smashed. They're being bludgeoned with branches, or simply crushed to death underfoot, like I'm about to be. The roar of engines, and the subsequent squeal of breaks from the nearby road seemed to give the creature's pause. The one crushing me looks up, and a second later its chest is shredded in an explosion of blood. The forest is suddenly filled with flying bits of wood as machine guns fire from the road,

squeving across the battlefield and killing many of the SCPs and even a few of our own men. My chest, no longer being crushed, I suck in a welcome breath, hoping that I don't take a stray bullet. The thundering clamor of the machine guns fades away, and I risk a look up. There are a few Sasquatches running away into the dark woods, while most of the others that had decimated our numbers are dead. Crunching footsteps approach as I stand up, retrieving my pistol. A squad moves into the forest, looking for survivors.

Sharp, my bunkmate, had been nearby. I search for him, locating his body quickly. His legs had been broken by one of the three. traps, but apparently one of the SCP instances had finished the job, crushing his head into sludge, probably with a single stomp of a huge, hairy foot. There's a black rage brewing in my stomach, its tendrils creeping through my entire body, filling me with anger. I look down to Sharp's body as I put a new clip into my M4. Then I step over to the downed Sasquots that nearly killed me. It's at least seven feet tall, with brown matted hair. Under its pronounced

brow, its yellow eyes are still open. I point my barrel at its face and pull the trigger four times in quick succession, obliterating its ape-like features. A hand lands on my shoulder, a familiar voice asking me just what the hell I'm doing. Just making sure it's dead, sir, I say, looking up into the face of Captain Powell. For a moment, I think he's going to chastise me, but he doesn't. Instead, he tells me to follow him. We head back out to the the road where the newly arrived vehicles with mounted machine guns are parked. The men stand behind their powerful guns, eyes on the dark forest. Powell leads me up the road to a command vehicle.

We step inside. There are a few other high-ranking officials around a table with a map. They look up as we enter. I've got a candidate, Powell says to them, gesturing at me. The two men and one woman sitting at the table look me over. You want a chance to kill more of those SEPs? One of the men asks me. Yes, sir, I say without hesitation.

It's all I want to do right now. That black rage isn't going anywhere. If anything, it's expanding with each passing moment. Good. Because we've got a job for you if you want to take it. The man says, We've located a way into their underground home. We know they're already planning another attack wave,

so the home base will be vulnerable. We want you to go down there and kill anything that moves. I nod. Yes, sir. What kind of team do you have in mind? No team, L says. Just you. I look at him.

Just me alone? I'll be killed before I can do any damage. We have an SCP that you can use, the other man says. It has some unique properties that will allow you to kill them all. An SCP? I say. That's approved. for use as a weapon?

Powell moves to a different section of the command vehicle and steps back a moment later with a metal lockbox about a foot and a half long and eight inches wide. He opens the lid and shows me what's inside. It looks like a regular chef's knife, although a little old-fashioned. It's about 12 inches long with a smooth rosewood handle.

I can see that the blade is made of one solid piece of metal from tip to butt, with the handle fastened to the metal. What does it do? I ask. When SCP-668 is used with intent to kill, the man at the table says, it broadcasts a psychic signal. The signal makes all other sentient beings around unable to come to the aid of the victim. It sends a kind of forced apathy under the surrounding beings.

They'll just watch until it's their turn to die. The idea of using such an intimate weapon to kill who knows how many of these creatures has a certain attraction. I picture myself using the knife on the creatures who killed my friends, and the rage inside me rejoices. Okay, I say, I'm in, but why can't I have a backup team with me? Well, the man says, because it's a worry that whoever wields the knife

will turn on any nearby agents once he's killed all of the SCP instances nearby. You mean me? You're afraid I will turn on the agents? Why would I do that? Listen, Hal says, this isn't a risk-free assignment, Amos. We may have to use some unpleasant, non-lethal means on you to get the knife away from you and break the spell. The fact is, we haven't used this SCP in the field yet.

I stare down at the knife, suppressing the urge to reach down and grab it. If you don't think you're up for it, we can find someone else, the woman at the table says. But she says it with a threatening tone, as if she's daring me to refuse. non-lethal means to get it away from me? I asked. Powell nods. What if these non-lethal means don't work? Then we'll use lethal means,

Powell says. At least he's not trying to bullshit me. Okay, let's do it. Where am I going? I move through the forest south of the battlefield with a team of ten. Powell comes with us. The metal box with SCP 668 inside in his pack. We move quietly but quickly to an area in every.

to an outcropping of rock. There are four other SCP operatives there, next to a large mound of dirt and some small pieces of equipment clearly used for digging. The team takes up defensive positions, while Powell and I talked to one of the engineers that found a way into the caves. Give us the run down, Gerard, Pell says to one of the men. Not much to tell. Here's the hole. There will be some tight squeezes, and you'll want to take off your armor. But it leads into an area concealed by a large rock. Once you're in, you'll see the setup. It's actually very impressive.

The entrance is at the base of the rock outcropping, and it's about the size of a manhole. It's nothing but a dark recess disappearing into the ground. Gerard seems to know what I'm thinking. You can use your flashlight most of the way. Once the tunnel widens out, turn your light off. Powell pulls out the metal box and hands it to me. Don't take the knife out until you're in the cave seat.

until you're in the cave system. Yes, sir. I take off my armor and leave my M4 outside the hole, but keep my sidearm in my holster. Then I take the box in one hand and my flashlight in the other and crawl into the hole. At the beginning, there are some tight spots that I couldn't have fit through with my armor,

but then the going gets easier. It's clear that most of the passage already existed. The SCP engineers simply needed to dig down to get to it. As the tunnel widens out, and I'm able to walk in a crouch, I turn off my flashlight. I step out behind a large rock, just like Gerard said I would. The metal box set carefully beside me. I peek out into the cave to see what I'm dealing with. Impressive is an understatement.

The place is massive. It's like a huge round honeycomb formation with an open middle, aside from four massive stone pillars that go from the ceiling just above the level, level I'm on, all the way down to the floor, some 10 levels down. There are lights placed at intervals, allowing me to see the basic setup of the place. It's clear that they're not light bulbs or flames, but I can't tell what they are. They look organic. The placement of these strange lights leaves a lot of darkness into which I can't see.

What I can see are dozens of SCP-1000 entities of various sizes and colors. All of them are busy with activities of some kind. They're on every level in recesses beyond the spiraling walkways that lead from level to level. From one side to another, it's probably 150 feet, and there are no railings along the walkways, just sheer drops all the way to the stone floor below. The smell of the place is pungent. It reminds me of the monkey cages at the zoo. My amazement fades as I see several Sasquatches, sharpening sticks, and create a little

creating rope for more traps. That black fury inside seems to tap me on the shoulder, reminding me what we're here for. I moved back behind the rock and open the lid to the metal box containing the knife. Intent to kill, I think to myself. Closing my eyes, I remember Ricard as he fell from high in a redwood tree. I recall the terrible sound his snapping bones made when he met the ground. I think about the log that came down, slamming into Sharp, breaking his life. legs. I remember all the horrible ways my fellow SCP officers died. Clenching my jaw, I open my eyes

and realize I have the knife in my hand. It's time to kill. I walk out from behind the rock strolling under the sloping walkway at the top level. I stop by a light and see that it's a collection of strange glowing worms. They move around in their circular formation, but don't seem to break out of it. Powell had said that these Sasquatches had away with nature. So I figured these worms are one example of that. I move on. The first dark recess I come to is a passageway. I head into it and come into a small room where two Sasquatches are tending to a third wounded

one. The two look up at me, their eyes wide and teeth bared. For a moment, I think the knife doesn't work on them. I feel certain they're about to attack me. But they don't. Even though it looks like they want nothing more than to rip me apart. They make no move. I walk up to them slowly and put the tip of the blade to one's hairy neck.

I look into its yellow eyes while pushing with increasing pressure on the blade. The creature does nothing, just stares up at me, hate in its eyes. I plunged the knife into its throat, yanking it out to watch the blood flow. Then I turned to the other one and stab it in the chest three times. The injured one I slice on the inner thigh, knowing by the massive flow of blood that I cut a main artery. I moved back out to the walkway and find a huge reddish Sasquatch standing there, staring at me. I shove it and watch it fall on the stone floor far below. Looking up, I see the walkways are lined with creatures, all looking up at me.

But they do nothing. They just stare, waiting for their turn to die. Just like the man in the command vehicle said, I work my way down, enjoying the killing at first. But by the time I get halfway down, I feel sick to my stomach. The black rage seems to be draining out of me. Even the thoughts of my friends, sharp and Ricard, can't keep it within me.

I'm losing the intent to kill. And it's starting to affect the way the remaining SCPs are acting. They seem to be coming out of the trance. Some of them start moving up toward me. Others cry out in fury. Determined to finish the job, I hurry, turning on to another dark passageway. A giant arm reaches out of the darkness and grabs me by the throat, lifting me off the ground. I slash out of the arm, cutting it open several times, but the creature doesn't drop me.

The world starts to blur and fade as my brain becomes starved for oxygen. Suddenly, all the killing I've done since coming into this place seems justified. That rage comes rushing back like a tsunami, as I realize this creature is going to kill me if I don't do something. I scream out through my constricting throat, cursing at the creature, stoking that hate inside. There's nothing I want more than to kill this Sasquatch, because doing so will keep me alive. And that's the most powerful and primate urge I have. It's the need that drives everything else. The creature drops me.

I scramble toward it and slice its hairy belly open, a grim smile on my face. I laugh as it falls to its knees, trying to scoop its intestines back into its, its body. Moving past it, I come to what I quickly realize is a nursery or daycare center. Little baby and young child Sasquatches stare up at me with big yellow eyes. My smile doesn't fade. I know the stakes now. When I make it back out of the hole, I'm still carrying the knife. The team is nowhere to be found, but I assume they're off in the forest nearby. They're non-lethal weapons trained on me. The only person around is Powell, who stands back from hole looking at me warily. I'm completely covered in blood and I've never been more exhausted in my

life. I throw the knife down on the ground between us. It's done, I say, get that fucking thing away from me. SEP 1000 is a nocturnal omnivorous ape classified in the hominny branch along with General Pan and Homo. Adults range in size from 5 to 10 feet in height and weigh between 200 and 600 pounds. gray, brown, black, red, and occasionally white fur. They possess large eyes with good vision, a pronounced brow ridge, and a sagittal crest on the forehead, similar to that of the gorilla, but present in both sexes. SCP-1000 evolved alongside Homo sapiens, existing contemporaneously, with proto-humans and humans in large numbers until 10,000 to 15,000 years ago, when an extinction event eliminated all but

1 to 5% of their population. The highest known population concentrations of SCP 1000 are at present located in the Pacific Northwest region of North America and the Himalayan mountain range in Asia. SCP 1000's presence has also been documented within the past five years on every continent. Due to recent events, SCP Foundation stations around the world have been alerted to the possibility of war with SCP 1000. It's unclear whether the recent battle in the Pacific Northwest region of North America was an isolated incident or part of an overall ploy to renew their population to the great society it once was, thereby eliminating humans. All foundation members should remain on high alert while this investigation is underway.