The SCP Experience - The Suburb Slasher Strikes Again | SCP-6733

Episode Date: February 24, 2025

Trapped in a twisted loop of horror and reality, four prisoners watch a cursed 80s slasher film, only to find themselves hunted by the very killer they once mocked on screen. This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6733 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett * * * 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 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The killer rips the jock's head clean off his neck with his bare hands. Blood spews out in all directions. A fragment of spine hangs on for a moment before it, too, separates like all the cartilage and flesh and muscle surrounding it. Oh shit! Galando shouts from his seat next to me, slapping his knee. Best kill yet! No way! Sykes says from my left, leaning forward so he can look at the bigger man on my right.

What about when he popped that kid's head earlier? That was a good kill. Shut up. Hodge shouts from the recliner nearby. Here comes another one. He's finally going to kill that girl. I guess you don't know anything about this genre, I tell Hodge. She's the final girl. She won't die.

We'll see. Maybe this one is different. We all turn our attention back to the TV screen where the cheesy 80s horror movie plays out. We're all dressed the same in orange jumpsuits and prison slippers. But it feels like we could just be four friends hanging out watching a silly movie. The room even looks the part. Three of us are seated on an old-school fabric couch with Hodge in the matching chair. There's a shag rug on the floor and the TV is perched on a beat-up wooden entertainment center. If it weren't for the windowless walls, the heavy-duty locked door and the camera is set in the ceiling,

I could trick myself into believing I'm free if just for a few minutes. Of course, we're not friends. We barely know each other. We've been brought here from different sites for some experiment, which I'm guessing has something to do with this movie. Otherwise, I don't know why the foundation would go to some much trouble to decorate this room like an 80s basement. All I know is there's something else going on here. In the year I've been a guinea pig for the foundation, they've never once given us a movie night. I don't see why they would start now, especially a movie night that required them to transport me for several hours by truck.

to this new site. But I'm trying not to worry about it. I turned my attention outward, putting it back on the TV. A hulking monster of a man, dressed in black overalls and wearing a black burlap sack on his head, stalks the final girl toward the camp's lake. For the last 90 minutes or so, the four of us have been watching the movie, which is played out pretty much like you'd expect for an 80s slasher film. A group of newly graduated friends head out to a camp to celebrate being free of high school. There's some exposition about how a killer, called the suburb slasher, was shot and killed by police there the previous year,

after a murder spree in the nearby suburbs. Once this limited setup is finished and the characters are introduced, the killer shows up and starts picking the kids off one at a time. Now, there's only one left, and it doesn't look good for her. I wonder how she'll get out of it. We all jeer at the TV when she's, she trips over a branch and goes down near the shore. The scene is shot from out on the lake, and the camera zooms in as the slasher closes on the final

girl. She's whimpering and screaming occasionally as she crawls, but everyone is dead. There's no one around to help her. It's supposed to be night out, but of course there's a light source coming from off-screen that is much brighter than moonlight. Still, it works. The production value is actually pretty good, considering when it was made. made. The kills look especially real. The camera continues to zoom in as the girl finally

stops crawling at the edge of the lake. The slasher, holding his bloody kitchen knife, stops walking and looms over her. But he doesn't try to kill her. His head comes up and he looks directly into the camera, which is still zooming. Although it's impossible to see his eyes thanks to the dark burlap sack on his head, I can still tell he's looking at the camera. The girl remains at his feet, sobbing and screaming, pleading wordlessly for mercy. What the hell? Hodge says. Why doesn't he kill her?

Just fucking stab her already, you pussy! Not for the first time. I wonder what Hodge did to get thrown in prison without the possibility of parole. Maybe he killed some teenagers with a big kitchen knife. Maybe that's why he wants the girl to die so bad. At the bottom of the frame, the final girl takes the opportunity to crawl away from the other otherwise occupied killer. Now the camera is focused solely on the slasher, zooming in on his obscured face. The girl is still screaming and sobbing off screen. Then there's a noise like a bundle of

wet branches being snapped. Blood splashes onto the slasher's overalls, and the girl stops screaming. The killer doesn't react to this at all. He just keeps staring at the camera as his burlap-covered face fills the screen. Then it all goes black. VCR below the TV whirrs and ejects the VHS tape. The four of us are silent for a couple of long moments, staring at the TV. Hodge is the one who breaks the silence. What the hell kind of ending was that? I don't get it, Sykes says, hand funneling his gray beard.

Did the girl die? Didn't you hear those sounds? Galando asks. Of course she died. What I don't get is how she died. I mean, killer clearly didn't do it. So what the hell? What a stupid movie, Hodge says, standing up in pacing, visibly upset.

The dude is unhinged. I still think the best kill was when that girl was locked in the walk-in freezer, I say, trying to calm Hodge down by recounting an on-screen murder. When he came back and threw her and she shouted, that was pretty cool. Like Demolition Man, Sykes replies. Remember that? Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that one. Wesley Snipes getting flash frozen and then getting his head kicker.

off, awesome. I start to laugh. But my moment of joy is cut short when Hodge shouts in anger and punches the TV breaking the screen. I wanted to see her die. Stupid fucking movie. Wow, someone needs to take a nap or something, Sykes says. Hodg whirls on the older man, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him off the couch. I lurched to my feet, ready to help the old man out, even though Hodge will probably beat my ass for it sooner or later. But as I get behind Hodge and snake a forearm around his throat. The door to the room bursts open, and several security guards rush in gleefully wielding collapsible batons. I let go of Hodge and step back, putting my hands up. Hodge drops Sykes and then turns around, putting his hands behind his head. He glares at

me as the guards come up behind him to put restraints on. You're fucking dead, dip shit, he growls. Before I can think of some way to apologize to the man who has several inches and a good 50 pounds on me. A guard is shoving me against the wall and restraining my hands behind my back. Lazzangue sur-gillet, puissance-moyance-moyerned 15 minutes. We'd say that's the hour dojo. Pre-a-to-played. Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo.

The casino-in-line that proposes the more recent machines-assoo and games of live in direct. Profite of 50 tours gratu on Big Bas Bonanza. Without ex-exempted of insigents. Hey! I've got gained! Woo-hoo! Sonture the pleasure. Play-O-Joe!

Dime 18-8 and plus, 1-Depo! The room they puttrakut on a machine-a-soubizabeth Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10. Veilershue to be in the condition's applicable. The room they put me in is not like any I've ever seen during my time with the foundation. For one, it's not a cell.

It's an actual room. With a bed and a dresser and a lamp that you can actually pick up. When I touch the lamp and see that it's not bolted down, I know something weird is going on. Plus, there's the room itself. With wood-paneled walls and a garish rug on the floor, It could easily have been in the movie we just watched. It's a cabin room.

Unfortunately, they put a bag over my head before taking me out of the TV room, so I couldn't see where I was going. They only took the bag off when they deposited me here. There's a camera in the ceiling, of course, and a notable lack of windows. But the door doesn't look all that tough. I'm beginning to think they want me to break out of here, or someone else to break in. Maybe Hodge isn't actually a heaping pile of crazy.

Maybe the movie adds some kind of anomalous effect on him. Maybe he's going to turn into the slasher and try to kill me. So do I bust out of here and try to get somewhere safe? Or do I wait and see? I don't really like either option. But it has been a while since I had an actual bed to enjoy. So I lied down while I think about it. The next thing I know, I've dozed off,

and I'm waking up to the sound of screams from outside my room. It's hard to tell, but my guess is Sykes is the one screaming. There's a crash of splintering wood, and the screaming gets louder. I get off the bed and step to the door. There's a knob lock, which is engaged, no deadbolt. I turn the lock and try the knob. The door opens just like that. So yeah, they wanted it this way.

I peer out into a simple cabin hallway with unadorned walls and doors at regular intervals. The hallway terminates at a dead end to my level. left, but about 30 feet to my right, there's another flimsy-looking door. The door diagonally across the hall for mine has been kicked in, and the room beyond is where the screams originate. As I step out into the hall, Sykes flies through the open doorway and crashes against the wall opposite. He crumbles to the floor, bleeding from slashes all over his body. Then a hulking figure in black overalls with a black burlap sack on his head steps out. He grips a large kitchen knife and one volleyball-sized fist.

The Slasher. I can't tell if it's Hodge or not. I can't see his face, and I've never seen him without a full jumpsuit on. But he's certainly as big as Hodge. He crouches over Sykes, and I can't help myself. Hey, dipshit, why don't you find a teenage girl to harass? That's more your speed anyway, right? The slasher turns his head, looking at me through the slightly thinner areas of the burlap

that pass for eye holes. Then he turns his attention back to Sykes. Again, I can't help myself. Sykes is just an old man. He reminds me of my truck-driving grandfather, who always used to let me sleep in the bed of his sleeper semi-truck when he wasn't on the road. To a kid of ten, sleeping in the cramped space was like being in a spaceship.

I loved it. So I rushed toward the pair and kick wildly at the slasher. I feel two of my toes shatter as they hit his chin, the flimsy prison slippers providing little protection. section. The kick barely moves his head, and it doesn't even seem to skew his burlap mask either. I'm groaning and hopping on my uninjured foot when the slasher stands up and kicks me much like I imagine he kicked down Sykes's door. I crash into the end of the hallway and blackout for a moment, coming to as a writhing mass of pain on the floor. When I look up, I see the slasher

sinking the knife into Sykes' left eye socket. The old man twitches and gasps and presses feebly. against the killer's arm as the blade bisects his eyeball and goes slowly into his brain. It's reminiscent of the first kill in the movie we just watched, not just reminiscent, almost exactly the same, except for the victim. I managed to get to my feet as Sykes finally stops moving and goes limp. The slasher pulls the knife out and looks up at me. Thinking I'm next, I dart back into my room and slam the door. I go for the lamp, picking it up, and facing the door with it held

ready over my shoulder. Then a strange shout comes from out in the hall. Cut, Cut, Cut. Farley, what the hell are you doing? I straighten a bit. Who is this calling my name? And what does cut mean? The doorknob rattles, and then there's a knock. Come on, Farley, open up. We're all ready behind schedule. Tenitively, I move forward and unlock the door. Then I step back, lamp still held ready. The door opens and a man I recognize as one of the guards from earlier He's no longer dressed as a guard, instead wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and some kind of thin scarf around his neck. What are you doing? Yes! Did you forget what scene we're shooting?

I stepped forward and peer out into the hall. The Slasher is there, but his hood is off. It's Hodge. He's helping Sykes up, who has a prosthetic over his eye. What the hell is happening? I say, more to myself than to the man in front of me. Farther down the hall, I see a man wearing a steady cam rig, glaring our way. Several other tired-looking people move around, resetting the scene. Come on, let's run it again from when the slasher pulls the knife out, okay? Do you need to look at your lines again?

I'm more confused than ever, but I put the lamp back and then limp out into the hall. Hey, Lomax. Hodge calls. Are we going again or what? Yes, yes. Lomax says, guiding me to where he wants me. Get back into position, please. While Hodge is pulling his mask back on,

there's a commotion from the other end of the hallway. Raised voices sound from behind the closed door. Then someone shouts, What the fuck are you doing? There's a crash, and then the entire wall at the end of the hallway, door and all, comes crashing down,

revealing a warehouse of some sort, a movie sound stage. A man holding a bundle of cords stumbles, clutching his throat with his free hand as blood spurts from between his fingers. What the hell is going on? Lomax shouts from next to me. A man dressed as the slasher, and just as big,

steps into view, walking across the flimsy fallen wall toward us. The cameraman spins around, weighed down by his steady cam rig, just as this newcomer approaches. The slasher grabs the camera and yanks it toward him, which in turn yanks the cameraman. I just glimpse the glint of a knife in the slasher's right hand, But then the glint is gone, and the cameraman is grunting in pain. My eyes dart from Hodge to the newcomer, making sure I'm seeing things correctly.

I am. There's two of them. Two slasher's. Lomax storms toward the new arrival, who tosses the cameraman aside without a second glance. What are you doing with my cameraman? We're not ready for the stunt team yet? Doesn't anyone look at the goddamn call sheets? He steps up to the much larger man and pokes him in the chest, opening his mouth to say some. The second slasher drops the knife to the floor and takes hold of Lomax with a hand on either side of his head. Sykes, Hodge, and I all look on as he starts to squeeze Lomax's skull. The smaller man tries to fight, but it's no use.

He manages to scream once before his head pops like a rotten melon. The various crew members still around suddenly scatter. Some of them screaming as they run away. What the hell? Hodge shouts. Is this real? Sikes rips rips the makeup from his face. as he gets to his feet and comes toward me.

Behind him, the slasher wipes his soiled hands on his pants and retrieves the knife he dropped earlier. Hodge, who has discarded his burlap mask, faces off against the slasher in the hallway. You want to fuck with me? The slasher whips the knife toward him, but Hodge blocks it, and suddenly the two men are shoving each other all over the hallway, fighting for the knife. We gotta get the hell out of here! Sikes says. This shit is real!

He killed the director! You're a prisoner of the prisoner. SCP Foundation, I say, grabbing him by his bony shoulders. Don't you remember? Sykes grimaces at me like I'm a crazy person. What the hell are you talking about? I'm not getting killed for this two-bit production. He wrenches himself away and turns around, heading for the dead end behind us.

I look back over at the two large fighting men, just as the slasher gets the upper hand on Hodge. He sinks the knife into the other man's throat and rips it across, opening up a bloody canyon in Hodge's neck. Next, he drops the knife and goes about ripping Hodges' head off, just like the slasher did to the jock in the movie. Help me push this down! Sykes says from behind me. I've seen enough, so I spin around and put my weight into the wall at the end of the hallway, grunting with the effort and the pain for my foot.

It shifts, then I hear woodbreak, and it falls over. Sykes and I run over it and toward the glowing red exit sign above a pushbar door. As we get to the door, I glance over my shoulder to see Hodges' sands. severed head flying toward us, having been thrown by the slasher. Before I can get a word of warning out, the head hits Sykes in the center of his back. He cries out in pain and smashes into the door. I push the door open and drag him out as the slasher stalks toward us. We're in an alley, and it's night out.

Directly across the alley is another door. I pull Sykes through the door and into another studio. There's a familiar set in the middle of the space. It's the room where we watched the suburb Slasher strikes again. Only it's different. There's only three walls in this room and no ceiling. The tape! I say, letting go of Sykes because he seems steady now.

I jump over the couch and fall to my knees in front of the VCR, ignoring the pain in my broken toes. There's the tape sticking out of the unit. I yank it out and stand up just as the door we came through bursts open. There's something else here now. Something new. From, exclusively on Paramount Plus, it's the series Stephen King calls Scary.

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The Slasher walks in, bloody knife in hand. Sykes looks at me once and then darts away, running around the set to the other side of the soundstage. The Slasher doesn't seem to care about him. He's coming for me. I drop the tape to the floor and stomp it with my heel. The hard, black plastic cracks. I stomp it again. It breaks.

I keep stomping it as the Slasher walks toward me. He's getting closer now, and I'm starting to think I should have followed Sykes' example. But it's too late now. I gambled, and maybe I've lost. In one final act of desperation, I pick up the shattered VHS tape in both hands, seeing that the actual film inside is still intact.

I dig the film out and rip it apart. On the other side of the couch, just a few feet away, the slasher stops walking. It's like he's been frozen, like Wesley Snipes and Demolition Man, or like the girl from the movie who was frozen and then shattered by the slasher. I step closer, wincing as my broken toes contact the couch.

I let the two rolls of film drop from my hands as I reach out to touch the slasher to see if he's really frozen. if it's really over. One hand shoots up and grabs my wrist. The other hand, the one with a knife, raises slowly. I try to pull my arm away, but he's too strong. The knife is rock steady in his other hand as it pauses just above his shoulder.

The tip pointed at me. I wince, waiting for the pain, waiting for death. The slasher jerks in time with a loud bang. Blood splatters my face. Then he jerks again and again, along with more bangs. The bangs are gunshots, I realize as his grip loosens enough for me to yank my arm away. As I back up, I see several Foundation security officers with rifles arrayed behind him. I drop down and cover my head with my hands as the shooting continues.

Finally, I hear a resounding thud as the Slashers' body hits the floor. The sound of hurried footsteps grow near as the security officers rush over. Standing up slowly with my hands raised, I peer over the couch at the Slasher. His chest is full of exit wounds from the bullets. I have his blood splattered all over my orange jumpsuit. But something doesn't add up. I looked down, checking myself for bullet wounds. If all those bullets went through him, I would have been hit.

But I wasn't. I'm fine. Cut! The security officers relax and look around. One of them reaches down and gives the slasher a hand up. A cameraman suddenly appears as if from nowhere, busy messing with his rig. Sykes appears from around the corner. That was great, but let's do it one more time. Back to one!

What the hell is happening? I murmur, looking down at the pieces of VHS tape on the floor and the couch. A woman rushes onto the set with a fresh tape in her hand. She gives me a small smile and then puts the tape into the VCR before she starts cleaning up the broken bits of the other one. I look at the tape sticking out of the player. That wasn't the original? She gives me a confused look.

Original what? Someone screams from nearby. There's a commotion that draws everyone's attention. Another slasher appears, this one without any bullet holes in his clothes. He's holding a skinny young man up by the throat. He snaps the young man's neck and tosses him to the floor. Then he looks in my direction.

More people scream. The security officers run away, along with the fake slasher. I shake my head. Not again. SCP 6733 is a VH. tape cassette, containing a recording of the horror movie, The Suburb Slasher Strikes Again, which was, according to the cassette's slip case, produced by Crystal Elms' productions in 1985.

The movie appears to be a sequel to SCP 5733 The Suburb Slasher Returns. When watched, the film causes the observer to become a conduit for the localized destabilization of reality. This results in a cycle where in the subject doesn't know what is real and what. what is not. This cycle will continue until the subject is finally killed by the slasher, or Scranton reality anchors are used to combat the tape's anomalous properties. The first test resulted in the death of 37 Foundation employees and six D-class personnel. Dr. Carpenter, who oversaw the test, was terminated for failure to follow proper reality

distortion protocols. Further testing is ongoing.