The SCP Experience - The Shattered Glass God | SCP-813

Episode Date: February 4, 2022

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-813: The Shattered Glass God Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-813, 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 Scarious 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. The three vehicle convoy sits inert ahead of me in the underground garage, waiting patiently for cargo. The vehicles are black SUVs in typical SCP foundation fashion. They're armored, although that's not clear from just looking at them. I stand next to the elevators with several other armed SCP personnel, each of us wearing bulletproof vests and helmets, with reinforced visors over our faces.

I shift the strapped on my SIG-Sour MPX submachine gun as the newest member of our team sidles up to me. What's up, kid? I ask, smiling behind my visor as he approaches. He sets his lips, glaring at me. I laugh. I'm just giving you a hard time, Stoll, I say, slapping him on the shoulder. I'd been pretending I didn't know his name since he came on a few weeks ago. He finally took me aside a few days ago and asked, with comrade. complete sincerity, if I could please call him by his name. I said, of course. He's a good kid, just a little nervous. I see him smile through his visor. It's okay, you can laugh. It's good to laugh before a mission, I say. What can I do for you? Well, Adrax, sir, he says. I'd like to know more about what we're transporting, if that's at all possible, sir. I sigh. Do you think you will be

able to do your job any better if you know what it is we're moving. Stoll's face goes serious again, as he considers the question in the sincere way of his that I've gotten used to over the last few weeks. Well, I don't know, sir, he says. It's hard to say without knowing what it is. I laugh. Quite the catch-22, huh? Yes, sir. I suppose it is, Stoll says. Okay, listen. I say, leaning in close. We usually keep the new guys in the dark about this stuff, because it really doesn't matter whether the grunts know anything. I was a grunt just like you once, and I didn't know what I was moving half the time. I pause and stole nods. That said, I continue. I remember being curious, too. So I'll tell you this. It's a glass orb, a sphere, I guess you'd call it.

That's it? Stoll says. Just a glass orb? I look at him with one eyebrow cocked. Is anything we deal with what it seems at face value? No, sir. It's not. Right, I say. Neither is this. I can't tell you a lot, but I can tell you that there are people out there who want this glass sphere badly. And that's where we come in.

We can't let them get it, which is why we move it from location to location every couple of weeks or months. The timeline is always different. Got it? Yes, sir, Stoll says. I can see he wants to ask something else, but the elevator doors open and five people walk out of it. Two of them are pushing a cart that has a reinforced black case on top of it. I know from experience and common sense that it has a bunch of padding inside and can take anything but a straight shot without so much as a dent. We load up the case in the back of the middle SUV.

There are already identical cases, empty cases, and the other two SUVs. Once that's done, and I get the paperwork from the scientist who escorted it out, we load up into the vehicles. Each SUV has three people in it, two guards and a driver. Stoll is in the first SUV with another guy, Richardson, and a driver. I'm in the middle with another veteran guard, a guy we just called Bull on account of his physique and quiet demeanor. The two other members of my team get into the third SUV with the driver. It takes us five minutes to get off of foundation property and onto public streets, which is where the danger begins.

It's just after 10 in the morning, and we're about 30 minutes outside of the military airbase that's our destination. From there, another team will take all three cases from us on a military transport plane. Where they'll go after that? I have no idea. It's above my pay grade. High desert shrubs zip by out the tended windows, the cloudless sky and flat terrain giving us good visibility in every direction. For now. I'm in the front passenger seat, and I'm looking for what I know is coming up on the right, a sandstone rock formation, a budding the road up ahead. If there's an ambush, it's the best place for it. The radio in my ear crackles. It's Richardson in the lead car. There's a man in the road up ahead. He says,

my heart speeds. My head runs through scenarios. Part of me wonders if it's a coincidence. The people who want this glass object would be pretty dumb to think we'd stop for some guy in the road trying to wave us down. Go around him, I say. The lead SUV slows. which makes us slow. Do not slow down, I say into the radio, knowing the other drivers can hear me. The lead SUV moves left. The move is mimicked by my driver.

But the lead SUV swerves right again, then slams the brakes. I watch as the vehicle bumps up over something. A moment later, the back wheels of the SUV bump over it, and I can see that it's a mangled body. Richardson says something over the radio, but it's drowned out by bull in the back seat who yells, and see a man running from the shoulder just ahead and to the right. He leaps in front of us as my driver slams on the brakes, but it's too late.

We're still going a good 50 miles per hour when we hit the guy. The SUV hits his lower legs, and he comes up the hood, slamming into the windshield, cracking it, but not breaking it. The windshield launches him back, throwing him up and past the rear of the SUV, just as we thump over the person the lead SUV hit. all the vehicles come to a stop. Before I can tell them to keep moving, an engine revs to my right. Go!

I scream as the grill of a semi-truck looms, coming out from next to the rock formation, which we're now right next to. My driver looks right. His eyes go wide, and he slams a foot on the gas, just as the semi-rams us. My head is whipped sideways, my helmet striking the window before the SUV rolls onto its side

in a cacophony of screaming metal and cracking glass. The vehicle comes to rest upside down. I can hear the familiar sound of Sig Sour MPX gunfire from outside. I unbuckle my seat belt and fall out of my seat. The driver does the same. He scrambles out of his door, and I follow suit, glancing into the back to see Bull in a contorted position. He must not have been wearing his seatbelt.

I curse, but I have no time to worry about Bull right now. We're on the side of the road. the pale dirt of the desert beneath us. I crouch behind the SUV and head toward the back, while gunfire erupts from both the lead and rear SUVs. The driver follows me, his sidearm out. A man in civilian clothes runs up to the back of the overturned SUV and tries to open the rear door.

I pivot out and put three bullets in him. As I turned back, I noticed that the driver's helmet came off during the crash. Your helmet! I say. His eyes go wide again. A small object shoots out of the dead man's right eye and directly into the driver's left, glinting briefly in the sun as it goes. He stands up straight in an almost comical imitation of a cartoon character struck in the head. Shit!

I say, raising my gun and shooting the driver in the head. I hear the revving of the big truck's engine again and jump toward the lead SUV as it smashes into the overturned vehicle again, no doubt trying to kill me. I roll in the dirt and get up, running towards Stoll and Richardson, who are now taking cover behind the lead SUV. How many? I asked, kneeling near the two men. I hear gunshots in the distance, coming from non-foundation weapons.

I don't know, sir, Stoll says. I counted ten, Richardson says, maybe more. Where's your driver? I ask him. Richardson shakes his head and points up the road to the shoulder. I see the driver's body lying face down there. I told him to stay with a vehicle, but he ran for cover that, Way, he tells me. Took a bullet.

I nod and look back toward the SUV with the glass orb in it. It's still on its top, and from where I am, I can't see what's happening behind it. But from the way it's rocking, I can tell that someone's likely breaking into it from the rear door. Somehow, they knew which vehicle it was in. Richardson pops up over the hood of the parked lead SUV and fires a few shots. They're closing in, he says. Keep them off me, I tell Richardson and Stoll. Frank, are you there?

I say over the radio. There's no answer. How about you, Vasquez? Still nothing. I can't see the rear SUV because the semi-truck is in the way, blocking the road. Listen to me, I tell Stoll and Richardson. They don't want to kill us. They want our bodies.

The way this thing works, it invades you through the eyes. That's why we're wearing these helmets, because the glass, it gets in your eyes. Once it's in there, There's no getting it out, not without killing you. You mean, all the people attacking us right now are being controlled by SCP 813? Stoll asks, then fires around the back of the SUV. I stand up on the footbar and locate a target out among the rocks.

I fire at him before answering still. That's right. When we found it, it was already partially broken, with shards missing. All it takes is a small piece, and that's it. You're gone, living like a prisoner in your own. body. So keep your damn helmets on. And if you see one of us get hit in the face with anything, you kill us. Understand me, Stoll? Sir, Stoll says, his voice shaky. How about you, Richardson? Yes, sir, Richardson says. Okay, I say, turning back toward the semi-truck and the overturned

SUV. A woman darts around the SUV, carrying the partially broken glass sphere above her head. I raise my weapon and fire a short burst at her, striking her in the chest. But as she falls, she throws the orb toward us. Run! I yell just before the glass orb hits the ground, shattering on impact. Pieces shoot out from the glass just as soon as it hits, several of them striking my faceplate in quick succession. Most of them bounce off, but one of them pierces the reinforced plastic,

embedding itself in the crack it created directly in front of my left eye. I can see the shard wiggling. forcing its way through. I reach up, unclip the chin strap, and throw the helmet off while I turn to run away from where the glass sphere impacted. I'm running toward Richardson, and I can see that his faceplate is broken.

He has one hand up under the faceplate, covering his right eye. Before I can do anything, he pulls out his sidearm, puts the barrel to his chin, and pulls the trigger. A splash of blood hits the inside of his faceplate just before he crumples to the ground.

I run around to the other side of the SUV, putting the bulk of the vehicle between me and the broken glass. I see Stoll run around from the backside of the SUV. His faceplate scratched but unbroken. What do we do, sir? He asks as we crouch next to the vehicle. There are still figures out among the rocks, and it's only a matter of time before they reach us.

You've got a decision to make, Stoll, I say, throwing my SIG submachine gun down and pulling a knife out of my pocket on my vest. You can do like me, or you can become a slave to the shattered glass god. I position the tip of the knife at an upward angle under my right eye with my left hand. With my right palm, I slap the butt of the knife, screaming as the blade sinks into my eye.

The pain is immense. My vision in the eye goes blinding white and then completely black. Oh God! Stoll says, then he throws up. Breathing hard, I position the blade under my left eye, seeing through tears that figures are approaching. Not much time left. I slapped the butt of the blade, and, after the savage white light, I'm completely blind.

They may kill me when they get to us. In fact, I would welcome it just to stop the terrible pain I'm in. But I won't be a slave. Anything is better than that. I pull the knife back out of my left eye and lean against the SUV, sliding down to my butt, feeling the blood and fluid stream out of my eyes. I can hear scuffling footes. I hear scuffling footsteps approaching.

I can't do it, sir, Stoll says, crying. I can't do it. You're a good kid, Stoll, I say. The footsteps arrive, then stop over near where I last saw Stoll. I hear a helmet clank to the ground, and then Stoll sucks in a sharp, pained breath. I know he's gone now, a slave until death. A slave to the shattered glass god. I whisper into the darkness that is now my home.

SCP 813 is a spherical glass sculpture. Close inspection has revealed a microscopic system of seemingly metallic clockwork machinery. This machinery is continuously active, though the means by which it generates power is unclear. The properties of the artifact have prevented more extensive inspection of the machinery, and spectroscopic analysis has proven inconclusive. The glass comprising SCP 813 is exceptionally fragile, fragile and will shatter under pressure far below what would be expected. Upon shattering, all fragments produced will seek out the nearest human targets.

These fragments are capable of propelling themselves through unknown means, allowing them to leap at velocities up to 131 kilometers per hour. Upon reaching its target, a shard will invade the subject's eye and embed itself into the optic nerve. Regardless of the fragments impact velocity, There will be no substantial damage to the eye or the rest of the body. The subject will suffer sharp pain and temporary blindness, which will dissipate within a few seconds.

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