The SCP Experience - The Train Car and the Rotting Humanoid | SCP-106

Episode Date: August 26, 2021

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-106: The Train Car and the Rotting Humanoid. This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-106, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We were being called up to the helipad. A mobile task force presence was needed to report to the desert, some 150 kilometers away from our base of operations. We were the closest to the incident, so it was an obvious choice. Apparently, there was a rail transport that ran into some trouble in the middle of the night, jumped the tracks, and is now unable to move. They wouldn't tell us what they were carrying. Our only instructions were to contain the scene

until secondary containment could be arranged in the morning. We knew the drill and took off. our chopper towards the incident. It takes an hour or so, but we make it to the site. The lights of the train are still on, which is good. It means that power must still be on, and that containment might not be compromised. The thing about being in a mobile task force is that, if you are not told what you are dealing with, then it's the worst possible thing. Everyone was on edge because we weren't given any information. We land on the ground. Dust is kicked up and obscures our vision of the transport. I signal for my team to approach the floodlights we can still make out. We are a mixed bag of professionals.

Most of us are hired ex-military, but we have a few specialists on our team. Those that get selected give me some kind of indication of what we are up against. We have a containment specialist, so I know that whatever this thing is, it's going to likely have very elaborate containment procedures. We also have a field medic, so I know this thing must be very deadly. We make our approach as our helicopter takes off, kicking up more dust, but we are close enough to the lights. The containment specialist takes the lead and makes for the front of the train. We cover him as he walks up the steps and locates the systems control unit. I tell the others to keep watch as I join her inside to get an update on what we are dealing with.

What's our status, Garcia? She feverishly typed on the keypad, bringing up schematics of the entire containment system. Power looks good. Systems are all intact. Defenses are even online, but there's nobody left on the train. All the staff have disappeared, she says flatly. And look, I can backtrack the last known route. It looks like the transport jumped the track here. Looks like they were going too fast.

My guess is they were trying to hurry and get to where they needed to go, but the rails couldn't handle the load. This containment system is massive. I don't know who approved this, but they definitely didn't take weight into consideration. That's all well and good, but give me something I can fucking use. What is it? And how long before secondary containment arrives? I bark back. I don't have a special love of engineers.

I'm here to work and not get killed. details can be sorted later in a briefing room. Garcia nods back ignoring my indignant tone. ETA is two hours. As to the entity, it's all classified. I don't have that clearance. You're in the dark. Then she peels her eyes off the computer screen to look at me directly. Expect the worst. I press my earpiece and Mike closer and key it up. All right team, listen. Secondary containment is inbound in two hours. I want a perimeter of the transport. I want confirmation of any staff, dead or alive. A team starts on the left side. B team takes the right. I'll hop up top and we'll meet at the end. Move. I can already hear my team hustling in the dry sand outside as they take positions and start a

perimeter check. I look back at Garcia, but she speaks before I have a chance to. I'll monitor the systems here and keep you informed. I nod and take an access ladder to the top. Once there, I have a bird's-eye view of the landscape and the rail transport. It's not a huge cargo train like one would expect, just a few cars. an engine, a power generator, the containment hold, and finally, a security bunker at the end. If anyone is left alive, they could hold out there. I start making my way across the transport. The hum of the generators beneath my feet are comforting. This means that they still work.

Once I get to the containment car, I can appreciate Garcia's previous comments. It was massive and stuck out from the rest of the transport like an oversized load on the highway, cylindrical and made of solid metal. It must have weighed tons, if not hundreds of tons. I clambered to the top of it to get a look at it. Garcia was right. It was still in decent shape from what I could tell. A little superficial rust, but otherwise fine.

My ear radio keys up. It's Garcia. I found something else, she says. What is it? I replied back as I look at both of my teams below walking along either side of the transport. Garcia continues. Right before they jump the track,

brake system number seven and eight lost signal. So? I replied. Break system number seven and eight are located directly under the containment vessel. Are there signs of damage? I look over the edge towards the A-Team and whistle at them. I need the status of what is under the containment. All four of them nod and point their flashlights under the containment vessel. After a moment of looking, they holler back up at me. It's all gone. It is all

corroded underneath. The wheels are gone too. I nod and signal for them to continue. Keying up the earpiece again, I relay the message to Garcia. Listen, A-team says the undercarriage of the vessel is in bad shape. Wheels have rusted off. There's a pause. Then she responds back with a more frantic tone. I was a bit shocked at her change in attitude, but I pressed her further. Listen, if you know something, then you should... I was interrupted by alarms on the transport. All the lights switch on and light up the desert.

Garcia is nearly screaming in my earpiece. Breach, breach, freak! Gunshots ring out. I look over to the other side and see B-team shooting at something from under the vessel. It's some kind of blackness oozing out from under the transport. Not even the light helps to identify the oily substance. Get out of there! I yelled from above, but it was too late.

Rust alongside the vessel starts to creep up the sides, and it knocks out the lighting. I can't see the team very well, but there is something else among them, another person. A man covered in black. I can only see the shine of his eyes and a row of crooked teeth bent up into his smile. The team panics as one by one they are pulled into the black sand, each shout echoing into the dark desert. And then, they were all gone. B-team was already rushing around to engage. Hold position. A-team is gone.

Regroup at the front. I yell at them. They heard me and pivot towards the front in double time. I do the same. The genie is out of the bottle now. Hustling back to the power generators, I make it to the front, where B-Team is there waiting for orders.

I bark at them to keep their heads in the game. It's a humanoid. Call it out if you see it. I then went back into the systems control room with Garcia. Did you see it? A dark smiling man? She asks me immediately. I nod.

Fuck! She unplugs her laptop and starts packing her equipment. We have to get out of you. What is it? What came out of containment? I asked. I could tell something has really spooked her. I know Garcia. She's not the type to lose her cool. She doesn't answer. Garcia, I lost four people. Tell me what we are fighting. The power drops out suddenly. It goes completely dark and silent. She replies, quietly shaking. I leave her in the room as I poke my head out to look at the generators. They rusted over with corrosion and seized up completely. What the hell? I say to myself, what can cause metal to age that quickly? The entire transport, was in an increasing state of decrepitude. Pretty soon it won't even be able to move,

and the inbound secondary containment team is still a ways off. My thoughts are interrupted by gunfire as 18 calls something out. 9 o'clock! I see. Something approaching. It was there, and then it was gone. But it was a smiling man with black polished eyes covered in dark-rotted skin. The gun seemed to make him dissipate into his shadow.

I don't know if it actually has an effect, or if we are being toyed with. Suddenly, someone is dragged under the train by their ankles, panic ensues as the team backs off in all directions. One by one, they get picked off in rapid succession. I tried to bring up my gun to shoot it, but it's too fast in the dark. I watch my team members be pulled one by one away from me. Then the hand falls on my shoulder.

I whip around and unload a cliff. I didn't even wait. Just turn and trigger pull. Fifteen rounds later, the gun clicks hard and is silent. Smoke creeps out the barrel as my eyes readjust to darkness. What I just laid waste to starts to become clear. There is no black. Just red blood.

Garcia lays back with holes in her head and chest. Oh God, I killed her. Why did she sneak up on me like that? I'm too edgy. The wash of guilt crashes into me as I hear a sound in the silence, a deep-thrody chuckle. It's coming for me now. Out of ammo, out of people, out of hope,

I reach for my sidearm and quickly unholster it. Before I can get the barrel in my mouth, I'm pulled into blackness. Damn, I was so close. Suddenly I woke up with a jolt. Life rushes back into me. I cough. It is a thick and mucusy cough. Sitting up helps as I get my bearings. My eyes adjust to the room. If it could even be called that, I was in a house that looked like it had been abandoned. It was dimly lit, but I couldn't see a light source anywhere. There was a thick fog everywhere,

and it made it hard to see the walls, impossible to see the next room through open doors and hallways. The house was in poor shape. Floorboards cracked and oozed with mold. Walls with swollen plaster crumbled to the ground in chunky gray crumbs. The ceiling above sagged as brown liquid dripped into puddles. It was a sickly place of rot, but something was vaguely familiar. This was my childhood home. I didn't think my old home could have been this bad since I left 20 years ago. Then I'm hit with a realization.

I know where the front door is. Feeling my way through the haze, I can navigate through the house. I'm on the second floor I can tell. There is a huge gash on the wall of the hallway, exposing pipes and wires that have also been torn open. The carpet under my feet is soaked with a rancid liquid. I worry about falling through the floor as I make my way downstairs. Once down, I swear I can hear something in the kitchen.

I won't go investigate as the front door is only a couple of yards in the opposite direction. I bowled for the door. Get my hand on the knob. It takes a little grunting to get the latch to turn. The crusty wine of the hinges was deafening. I dashed through it just in time to see something running up behind me screaming. I close it, slamming it shut. and then nothing. I turn and continue, but only to find myself back upstairs. I turn back towards the

door to open it again. It opens to a bathroom with a floor smeared with an oily substance around the toilet and walls. The smell is wretched. I quickly shut it again. What the fuck is this? I whispered to myself. I don't have anything on me but clothes, my wits, and my fear. The thing must have pulled me into some illusion, some kind of space where he can toy with me. Maybe it is watching me right now to see what I'll do, to try and hide. me down, slowly. I won't give it to pleasure, though. I'd rather kill myself than go through its little fun house.

I walk over to my room. I know what to find now. Once inside, I locate my old baseball bat. It's dried over and cracked, but it will have to do. I hit a lot of balls with his back in high school. Now I'm going to be swinging it at a monster. I step out into the hallway and shout into the haze, obscuring the end of the hallway. All right, you piece of shit, come at me.

I'm not going to play your games, motherfucker. I wind up the bat waiting for a response. There is a creaking in the wood like a chuckle. It's slow and deliberate. The building breathes and then sighs with contentment. A door creaks open in the middle of the hallway. I slowly approach with caution, bat at the ready. It is morning.

Two researchers put the final touches on the secondary containment at the crash site. The old transport is in shambles, but luckily they were able to recover the entity. After putting the final touches and getting the new containment vessel on its way, They both walked back to their vehicles. That was a close one. I guess we lucked out having a derail in the desert with nobody around. Yeah, except the MTF team. They distracted it long enough till we could get here.

Are you going to write up the reports? Yes, I'll do it when I get back. His foot strikes something buried in the sand. A piece of wood? Way out here? He picks it up and looks it over. What do you have there? His partner asks.

I don't know. It's a baseball bat? and it has dried blood on it. SCP 106 appears to be an elderly humanoid with a general appearance of advanced decomposition. This appearance may vary, but the rotting quality is observed in all forms. SCP 106 is not exceptionally agile

and will remain motionless for days at a time, waiting for prey. SCP 106 is also capable of scaling any vertical surface and can remain suspended upside down indefinitely. When attacking, SCP 106 will attempt to end up and... incapacitate prey by damaging major organs, muscle groups, or tendons, then pull disabled prey into its pocket dimension.

SCP 106 appears to prefer human prey items in the 10 to 25 years of age bracket. SCP 106 causes a corrosion effect in all solid matter it touches, engaging a physical breakdown in materials several seconds after contact. This is observed as rusting, rotting, and cracking of materials, and the creation of a black mucus-like substance similar to the material coating of SCP-106. This effect is particularly detrimental to living tissues and is assumed to be a predigestion action. Corrosion continues for six hours after contact,

after which the effect appears to burn out. SCP 106 is capable of passing through solid matter, leaving behind a large patch of its corrosive mucus. SCP 106 is able to vanish inside solid matter, entering what is assumed to be a form of pocket dimension. SCP 106 is then able to exit this dimension from any point connected to the initial entry point. It is unknown if this is the point of origin for SCP 106 or a simple layer created by SCP 106. Limited observation of this pocket dimension has shown it to be composed mostly of halls and rooms.

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