The SCP Experience - The Skull Bay Mutiny | SCP-098

Episode Date: October 2, 2023

SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-098: The Skull Bay Mutiny This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-098 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 lived through a golden age. It was an age of possibilities, where a man could make his living through the sweat of his brow, with sword and musket drawn. My heroes were men like Edward Thatch, Steed Bonnet, and Jack Wackham. I did more than live through the age of piracy. I was a part of it. I flew under the flag of the Jolly Roger,

refused to be bound by the old world, and helped create a new one. I was there when Nassau kicked out the governors and helped establish the pirate republic. But that was a long time ago. I think one of the poets said that nothing gold lasts. Normally, I don't put much stock in the words of men who get hand-fed their coin from the monarchies and nobles that run the world. But after having lived through it, I have to say, those precious dandies might have been right about a thing or two. They finally managed to kill Blackbeard.

Bonnet and Rackham were both hanged. Many took pardons and hunted their former brethren, like that bastard Hornigold. The British reclaimed Nassau, and now Woods Rogers is offering pardons or planks to every pirate that won't get in line. Once upon a time, Captain Connor the Red was every bit the pirate

as the legends I worship. A towering man named after his flowing locks of red hair and beard. He could be as cunning as raccom and as deadly as blackbeard, depending on the situation. He was a terrifying man when anchored, but one who treated his crew fairly, and he was a man who could pull off wonders when properly motivated. I was just a cabin boy aboard the Red Tide when we robbed a Spanish galleon that had gotten lost in the storm. We went through nearly all our gunpowder taming the ship. Every blade, including mine, was bloody by the the end of the day. I was 13 that day I made my first kill, something that endeared me to my crew

and my captain. It's still one of the proudest days of my life. Unfortunately, we couldn't hold on to all the treasure. The Spanish were increasing their patrols and the penalties in the Caribbean. Being caught with so much of their gold was as good as a death sentence as slapping a queen on her arse. Captain Connor and several senior crewmen decided to hide the treasure away on a small, deserted island called Skull Bay. After the Spanish had time to forget, we would take the gold we had rightfully earned. I don't remember much of that night, though I had scored my first kill. My opponent put up a good fight. I ended up losing an eye, and my wounds had grown so infected that our drunk of a medic thought I would surely join the Reaper.

Instead, I survived the ordeal, coming out stronger for it. In truth, I had forgotten about the treasure. A life of debauchery and robbery will do that. Two decades passed, and I was having too much damn fun. I was making a considerable amount of money, spending it on wine and women. I had too much going on to ever think much about my past. A pirate's life focuses on the here and now. The past holds us down, and the future is constantly shifting.

Just as time was unkind to piracy, it was ruthless to Captain Connor. Over the last few years, the old pirate had taken to drinking and opium. He became more withdrawn, trusting only his first mate Higgins and leaving the rest of his crew feeling isolated. Our last run-in with the British Navy left most of our crew crippled or dead. It left our ship, the Red Tide, in serious need of repair. With no coin in our coffers to make that happen, all seemed lost. Until I remembered the day 20 years ago. What about the treasure on Skull Bay?

Absolutely not. Captain Connor bellowed, slamming his fist on the table. No! Higgins agreed with a hurried shake of his head. The island is cursed, Pierce. We'll have no more talk of it. After that, the two had taken to their cabins, hitting the opium pipe they'd both cherished. The other pirates gathered around me after they left.

Most of our original crew were either dead or pardoned, and there were few left of the old guard I sailed with. But the new ones were eager to listen to me, especially when I told them of the number of chests we had looted from the Spanish ship two decades prior. A young sailor named Steele held the most interest in my tale. When so many pirates worth their salt had taken partons, our ship was filled with the dregs of humanity. Men who were not welcome in any civilized port and could only find employment as bloodthirsty cutthroats. They only wanted to burn down the world around them,

uninterested in obtaining their freedom or building something new. But when gold starts to rust, you take what you can get, as Captain Connor did, and as I did with my co-conspirators. The men were worked up into a frenzy after I told them of the treasure. As ashamed as I was, I couldn't deny they were right. Captain Connor was not the man he once was. You could afford to be cruel and captain a pirate ship, but you couldn't afford to be weak.

His weakness would see us all adrift or hanged unless somebody did something to reclaim the treasure. They wanted to cut the captain and Higgins to pieces, but I denied their bloody request and asked them, for a musket. Even past his prime, I don't think I could have taken Captain Connor in a fight if he was sober. Fortunately, he never was. He didn't stir when I crept into his quarters and placed the pistol against his forehead. Not even when I pulled the trigger. I can still hear their cries of joy after they tossed his corpse overboard, fighting to keep the contents of my stomach contained within. That wasn't even the worst of it. The only man who knew the island's location

was Higgins. He refused to give up the location, no matter how much I begged and pleaded with him. Ultimately, I was forced to give him to steal and his cruel cronies. They spent hours torturing him in ways that no man should have to suffer, certainly not someone who had once been a man I admired. Eventually, Higgins broke, revealing Skull Bay's location, but not before slumping unconscious, unable to awaken despite Steele's more clever methods. Pius, I knocked sounds on the door to my new quarters. We've arrived. Sleep did not come to me after the mutiny.

As such, my temper is even shorter than usual when I pulled the door open. Steele grins at me, his oily hair mopped back, revealing yellow and brown teeth. As Higgins awoken? Not yet. Steele's grin grows wider, his foul breath clouding each of his words. We're at the island in any case. It's not very big. better to slit his throat now and

I grip him roughly by the shoulders and slam him into the wall then hurl my fist into his chin while he's dazed before he can recover from the blow I remove the daggers from his belt and hoist him up onto the deck I kick him loudly in the ribs until I hear them crack

rousing the rest of the crew some of Steele's allies tense fingers lingering toward their weapons until they see both pistols in my hand They might have liked Steele's words, but none liked the man enough to chance a bullet. Killing the captain broke my heart, Steele, but I did it anyway, because a ship is more than its captain. I did it for all of us. I pulled the hammer back on the pistol, the click silencing the crew again.

Killing Higgins would do the same to me, but your death wouldn't cause me to lose any sleep. Understood. Savvy, he clowers at me. But I keep the gun leveled at him until he adds the word I'm looking for. Captain. With that taken care of, I took over the rest of the crew. Half of you stay here. The rest of you get to the dinghies, and bring Higgins with you.

We'll need his help to find the treasure. The small crafts make a quick journey from the Red Tide to Skull Bay. I stare at Higgins the whole time, who still hasn't regained consciousness. It's only been one night, but he looks to a... aged years in that short time. His skin is paled to the color of coconut innards, and his hands won't stop bleeding, even though the nubs that used to be his fingers are tightly bandaged. Thought he was going to help us. Steel seethes, clutching his ribs. Do you want to see how well you can swim with those injuries? The threat is enough to cut off any more retorts and elicits

some chuckles from the other men in the raft. I think of the beating I gave Steele. Most men turned to piracy to avoid corporal punishment, which is all too common in the Navy. I deserted the Royal Navy after watching a fellow cabin boy being flogged for accidentally spilling wine on our captain's uniform. Changing times, I remind myself. The crew that I'm sailing with now only respects strength and cruelty. In order to maintain what little control I have of them, I need to be the captain they want and keep steel from turning them against me. After I get my share of the treasure, I can look into getting my own ship and hiring a new crew.

Keeping the red tide for myself feels like blasphemy after what I did to obtain it. Landfall is quick, and the men are eager to get started. Only ten of them have come ashore, which is for the best. Most of the ones who follow steel were left aboard the red tide, and while I still don't trust most of these men past where I could throw them, the treasure is too big of a hall for them to rob on their own. You all know what we're looking for, I remind them. It's been 20 years, but this island is not manned or known.

Captain Connor would have left it with a marker of some kind, but who knows if it still exists after all this time? Keep your eyes out for any signs of disturbed earth. After I finish giving my orders, Higgins bolts upright from his slumber. He looks about the island. His mouth is open in horror. Damned! We're all damned. I'm damned.

Higgins, I stepped toward him, but his body goes rigid and convulses. He falls hard into the sand before I can catch him. After turning him onto his back, I can tell him too late. All the same. I raise a hand to the side of his neck but feel no pulse. Even stranger, the look of horror on his face is now replaced with a smile. So happy that we brought him along, Steele mutters.

Mr. Steele, with your injuries, I don't think he'll be able to help us much on our expedition. Take one of the shovels and see that Mr. Higgins is properly buried. We square off again. Steel chews on his bottom lip, looking over the rest of the crew, gauging them for their support. None of the men are interested in challenging me for command or supporting steel in another mutiny.

Their eyes are lit with greed, and I can tell they're already plotting how they'll spend their loot. Steel turns and spits, but limps to a raft and grabs a shovel. I wait for him to break the loose earth before returning my attention to the men. Spread out, this island isn't large, so search in groups of two. If you find the treasure, fire your gun in the air. Regardless, we all meet back here at sunset, agreed? My orders are quickly acknowledged, and the men break into pairs

before heading toward the thick jungle a short way from the beach. with steel staying behind to Barry Higgins that leaves me searching alone. The sun is lowering over the trees, casting the forest and hues of angry purple and red. I lean against a tree, wiping the sweat from my brow and swearing. This is taking too long. One of the men should have found something, anything by now. Swearing under my breath,

I force myself from the tree and trudge deeper into the jungle, using the lingering bit of light while I still can. I can't go back to the crew empty-handed. Not after searching how easily they. We turned on Captain Connor and Higgins. If I fail to deliver on my promises, then I'll join them in. The fall disrupts my thoughts. My jaw jars against the pit while something jagged digs into my ribs.

Grumbling, I force myself up, and my eyes widen. The pit had been exhumed by hand. Could this be where the treasure had lain buried? Had someone come and taken it in the last 20 years? If so, it doesn't bode well for me. Pledging my hands into the wet dirt, I shovel it out of the way. It doesn't take me long to find what I landed on. Raising the bone into the fading light, I swallow and nearly choke on my fear.

It's a human bone, an arm or a leg. I'm not sure which. Run, captain! I spin toward the shout, dropping the bone. and unsheathing my sword and pistols as I do. Run, Captain! They're gaining on us! I turned slowly, the voice now coming from another direction. There is no mistaking it now.

The voice belongs to Higgins. But how? How could he have survived? No, I checked his pulse myself. The man is dead. Faster, Higgins! I nearly dropped my weapons as I recognize Captain Conner's voice. Not too far from the boats now. Am I being haunted?

Cursed for my betrayal? The voices repeat themselves. The same phrase is over and over. They're all around me. Closing in on my location when a branch snaps. I shout a warning and fire blind. The shot explodes like thunder into the thick underbrush as the last light of day dwindles beneath the canopies,

leaving me alone in the dark. The silence lasts only a second as the trees start to sway. I try to convince myself it's just the wind, but the underbrush soon join. the dance. All around me, the jungle reaches out toward me. Beneath the bustling leaves and grass, I can hear the steps on the ground when the voices start again. Damned, damned! We're all damned! I dropped the musket and flee back in the direction I came. Vines and branches swipe at me, but I don't slow down, not even as they tear at my clothes and skin. A glare of light enters the

field of my vision. The crew must have returned to our starting point and lit a fire. I turn in direction and pick up my speed when I realize the light is too close to belong to the camp. I collide into someone. We spin on the ground, tumbling and rolling over each other. When we finally come to a stop, I pull myself up, my vision's shaking. Steel glars at me through the light of his torch. He grunts and forces himself up into a sitting position. Christ, are you trying to break all my bones? I never thought I would be relieved to see Steele. He may be despicable, but deplorable men are still asleep. sight better than phantoms looking for revenge. As I catch my breath, something else stirs my anger,

which is also a much more pleasant emotion than fear. Why have you abandoned your post, Steele? Following your orders, Captain. He squeezes as much contempt and condescension as he can into the title. You said to come running when we heard a shot, didn't you? An inkling of terror creeps back into my mind, but I try to keep it concealed as I ask. And Mr. Higgins? Six feet under, steel glowers at me. Or closer to four, I suppose. Not easy digging with broken ribs. I bear my gaze into steel, looking for any signs of deception. While he is duplicitous and power-hungry, cunning isn't a word many would use to describe him.

I can't sense any dishonesty amidst his open hostility. So, Higgins is truly dead. What were those voices I heard then? guilt. That must have been it. I hadn't slept at all last night, and the shame I felt for my part in Captain Connor and Higgins' murders had gotten to me. That must have been all it was. Steele opens his mouth, but a volley of gunfire stops him from asking questions. Thinking my justification for relief is premature, I bring my sword up toward the gunfire. While steel has no love for me, he picks up his torch and limps within the protective reach of my blade.

Treasure. A voice rumbles in the distance. Treasure! We found the treasure! This voice is also familiar, but does not belong to any of the men I killed. It's Pasquois, one of the men in the search parties. Steele also recognizes it, and his grin broadens as he enters the darkness. Eager to finish this expedition and get off this damned island, I follow him. Lazzang sur-joled, puissance-moined, for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo.

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exclusively on Paramount Plus. The moon is powerless against the thick canopy of trees that cover the jungle as we plunge through the darkness. Steels torch as a blazing beacon in the complete ink of night. As angry as I am to depend on the man for anything, I can't help but be thankful for his presence. Or, at the very least, the presence of his torch. Look!

He stops abruptly and raises his finger. At the center of the clearing is a small lagoon with an island that could hold only a few men. The muddy dirt has been upturned, and several large chests have been spilled open. Spanish de blooms glisten in the firelight. Steel rushes forward, and in anticipation, I follow him. We even manage to share a laugh as our feet plunge into the water. The cold is shocking as we go as fast as the muddy bottom will allow us,

not even bothering to stop and see how deep it is. Reason catches up with my greed as I reach out and grab steel roughly by the shoulder. His body tenses. Careful, sir. Nothing gets between me and gold, not even with broken ribs. I ignore his threat. Where's Pasquale? Steel blinks, and I realize I've managed to get through to him when he stares at the treasure.

Any pirate would die before letting such a haul out of their sight. With that in mind, I ready my sword, just in time for the water to come alive with splashes surrounding us. Steel screams in pain and topples forward. He and the torch vanished beneath the muddy surface of the water, plunging me into darkness. A gas breaks through the obsidian void, followed by steel screams, quickly becoming gurgles. Something splashes near me, and I swing my sword.

It clangs loudly against something, eliciting a shriek before something clamps around my wrist. My bones break with a loud snap while something cuts deep into my ankles. Crashing into the water, I thrash with my arms and legs, but I'm assaulted from all sides. A dozen wounds open across my body. Most are focused on my arms and legs. Searing pain stops me from moving until something slimy coats over them, numbing the pain.

Water fills my lungs as claws sink into my ankles. Something pulls me through the water, dragging me across the clay bottom. My lungs nearly burst before I'm suddenly thrown from the water and onto the muddy banks with steel by my side. The moon finally breaks through the trees, shining down upon us.

Through its light, I can see what we couldn't be. before. The men who came ashore lie in a pile. Their bodies have been hacked apart, and their blood is sinking into the gold. Run, Captain! Run! Higgins screams again, and I force myself to look at the emerging shadows. It's not Higgins. They're crabs! But unlike any I've ever seen, they're the size of dogs, and their legs have been sharpened into swords. Faster, Higgins! The captain's voice comes from another crab, as it works its writhing claws of the a mouth. Treasure. Another crab speaks with Pasquale's voice. We found the treasure. Treasure.

Treasure. Treasure. Treasure. The crabs pick up the chant, each mimicking it in a different voice belonging to our crewmates. I stare at one as it lunges forward and tears a chunk of flesh from Steele's face. He screams as the crabs break into a frenzy, ripping his body apart and shoving it into their ravenous maws. Pain rips through my bow. body as the crabs bite into my flesh, I open my mouth and scream, which some crabs repeat before one looms over my head. A spray of green gushes from its mouth, flowing down my throat. Before I can spit it out, it solidifies and numbs my throat. Treasure, treasure, treasure. As my vision fades, I realize the chant is more than mere mimicry of their prey. After all, what do crabs value

more than fresh meat? S. C.P. 98 is a species. of previously unknown crustacean. They resemble crabs, but rather than keely, the front limbs terminate in knife-like structures that incorporate silica to form an extremely sharp edge. Specimens reach larger sizes than normal for land-dwelling arthropods, at 40 centimeters tall and as large as 60 centimeters across.

Specimens of SCP-98 prefer an environment with ready concealment and shallow pools of water. They are able to breathe both water and air. water and air, splitting their time between the two environments. They are also capable of vocalizations, using a larynx-like structure attached to primitive lungs. SCP-98 demonstrates pack-hunting behavior when attacking prey. When specimens detect a prey animal, they will attempt to surround it. They will mimic the sounds made by the creature, apparently to confuse it or draw it into position.

When ready, one specimen will approach the prey animal, when its attention is fixed on the the first specimen, others will move behind the prey and attempt to cut the tendons of the legs or other limbs. They will continue to mimic the sounds the prey animal makes to disorient it. After making a cut, a specimen of SCP 98 will spit abyscus mucus over the wound. This substance hardens rapidly, preventing blood loss or infection. This continues until the prey animal is completely immobilized. At this point, specimens will begin to feed on the prey animal by cutting off small pieces of flesh. This begins with soft, readily accessible tissues,

as those of the face and extremities, before moving to other parts of the body. Specimens of SCP-98 will only feed so long as the prey animal is capable of respiration. Feeding can last several hours or several days, depending on the size of the prey animal and the number of specimens present. Specimens of SCP-98 show some ability to communicate, alerting each other to the presence of threats or potential food over short distances. It was initially thought that SCP-98 might display human-level intelligence,

but are now believed to merely parrot human speech.