The SCP Experience - This Town is Theirs Now | SCP-2875

Episode Date: March 22, 2023

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-2875: This Town is Theirs Now    This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp. Go to betterhelp.com/scp today to get 10% off your first month! This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2875 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 New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z 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

It's something else here now. Something new. From. Exclusively on Paramount Plus. It's the series Stephen King calls scary as 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. Okay there, everyone. Okay there. Mayor Liston stands at the podium waving his hands and speaking loudly in his heavy Wisconsinite accent. The town hall is as packed as I've ever seen it since that time in 1964, when I was 12 and a group of motorcycle hooligans stopped in our town for a week, causing all sorts of havoc. My mom and dad dragged me to the meeting, afraid that I would be kidnapped and eaten by the bikers if they left me at home. But this is a whole different ballgame as they. They say. Things are getting serious. And as I look around the meeting hall, I see faces contorted

with fear and anger. Half the men in the room have rifles slung over their shoulders or propped against their seats, even though it's against local ordinance to have firearms in the town hall. Okay there, everyone, Mayor Liston tries again. He's too quiet and too damn polite to yell, and the people are too riled up. Everybody shut up and sit down, I shout out. My voice bouncing off the finely constructed wood ceiling. Suddenly, the crowd goes silent, except for the sound of butts hitting seats. I've never been a town favorite, true enough. But I've also never been much for popularity contests.

I've kept myself to myself over the years, but I speak my mind when I have a piece to say. Some people may not like it, but that's their problem. So I ignore the dirty looks I get from a few people as I turn to nod at the middle. Mayor. Then I sit down next to Rick Gentry, who's a close second for the oldest and grumpiest man in town. Bet that felt good, eh? He says, his fuzzy face cracking a smile to reveal his new dentures. Of course it did, I say. Yellen's a favorite pastime of mine. Thank you for coming. Mayor Liston begins. His voice shaky.

I know you're all concerned. What's being done about this? Charlie McCray shouts out. My kids can't even go outside anymore. It's insane. There are a few shouts of agreement from people. Let the mayor talk. Cheryl Cooper shouts. Boy, does she have a set of pipes on her.

The crowd goes silent once again. Yes, um, well, Liston says, For a politician, it sure takes him a while to get his words rolling. We all agreed at the last town hall meeting that we would try to drive the coyotes away. and, well, it worked, I suppose. Most of us weren't even here for that meeting. Someone shouts out,

Whose fault is that? Another person says. Then there's a thump from the town hall's front door. Everyone shuts up real fast. A few men even step into the aisle and raise their weapons, pointing them at the door. The rest of us turn in our seats, looking over our shoulders at the wooden double doors. There's another thump. The moment stretches.

Silence is all that filled. the room. Then the left-hand door opens and Chief of Police Pat Berman walks in, paying more attention to something on his left boot than his surroundings. But when he looks up and sees several rifles pointed at him, he stops short. Whoa now, Berman says, patting the air with his square hands. It's just me. The room breathes a collective sigh of relief. As Berman saunters up to the small stage, hands on his gun belt as he goes. Looking relieved, Mayor Liston steps aside and lets Berman take center stage.

The man is confident, I'll give him that much. Whether that confidence is deserved is up for consideration, in my humble opinion. He settles and peers out at the audience with slidid eyelids, like Clint Eastwood in a spaghetti western. Only Clint Eastwood could pull it off. Berman just looks like he needs glasses. I have my men patrolling the streets tonight, he says. as if that's not something they do every night. You're all safe, and we've contacted the people who started this little problem.

We haven't yet heard back from them. There are sounds of disbelief and disappointment at this. But, but... Berman continues. I'm considering allowing my men to shoot on site. Well, why can't we shoot them? Charlie McCray shouts, standing up. We need to be able to protect our families.

Think about it, Berman says. You want people firing off guns in the town limits? What happens when someone misses? And a bullet goes through a window and hits someone eating their damn supper? What about that? No, I think it's better if only my men do the shooting. They've been trained after all. I'm an excellent shot, McCray says.

I've been hunting with you, boy, I say. And you couldn't hit an elephant with an arrow from ten yards. McCray's face goes red as people chuckle. He gives me the old stink eye. The point is, Berman continues. The police and the game wardens will take care of this problem, but it may take a few days. Best to stay inside as much as you can until you get the okay for me or mayor listening. Half the crowd is against this, but the other half finds it reasonable.

I don't much care either way. Suddenly, a gunshot sounds from outside, and it's a close one, maybe a block or two away. Then there's another, and another. And another. A throaty roar erupts from outside, muffled but unmistakable. It's followed by the sound of glass breaking at a man screaming. Suddenly, the screaming stops with a faint crunch. The same men that were pointing their weapons at the door earlier are doing it again.

Only this time, their faces are drained of blood. Everyone's looking at the door, ears perked up like a dog's. I reach up under my jacket and uncliped the strap on my shoulder holster. allowing quick access to my 357 if I need it. Footsteps sound from the stage, and I turn to see Berman walking down, headed for the front door. He pauses as he reaches the double doors,

looking back over his shoulder. Don't shoot me in the back now, damn it, he says to the man pointing guns. Then he turns back, reaching out with his left hand while keeping his right on the gun at his hip. He slings open a door to reveal a 500-pound grizzly bear that roars and charges before Berman can do anything. The bear swipes at him, taking off the man's right ear and slicing clean through his cheek with its claws.

Berman screams as he falls backward amid a spray of blood. He gets his gun halfway out before falling down into the aisle. The entire place is screaming. The people closest to the bear are falling over each other to get clear. Meanwhile, a couple of the men with rifles are trying to get a shot, but people are running in front of them. The bear roars again and pounces on Berman, bringing its heavy forepaws down on his ribcaid. with a resounding crunch. Charlie McCrae has his rifle up.

He fires at the bear, but hits 25-year-old Lisa Daniels as she stumbles into his line of fire. Her head flies apart, and she falls limply to the wood floor. Another bear bashes through the door, roaring as it comes. With Berman dead, the first bear starts moving further into the room. David Richter fires his 30-0-06, hitting the bear clean in the head. The animal stays on its feet for a moment before collapsing on the floor. Rick Gentry and I are still standing up next to our seats, and we look at each other.

I reckon it's time to go, Gentry says. I reckon, I say, nodding. We turn in the aisle and head toward the back door. Half of the people have made their way out, but the other half is still inside, tripping and falling over each other in their panic. Rick and I reached down to help a couple of people up as we move calmly to the side aisle. Then I hear two simultaneous roars alongside a couple of screams. from men and women.

I look over my shoulder and see that there are now three bears in the town hall. Four, if you count the dead one on the floor. Both of the double doors are still closed after the first pair of bears came in. And my first thought is insane. Ninja bears. They just appeared!

David Richter looks scared half to death. But he's taking aim with his 30-odd again. He fires, hitting one of the three bears in the head. He's always been a good shot. Granted, it would be hard to miss from this distance. Meanwhile, McCrae is still standing nearby, staring at the bears while holding his rifle. Move, Charlie! I shout, seeing that one of the two remaining animals has set its sights on him.

He doesn't move, and he's holding his gun crosswise against his chest. Dagnapp it! I mutter, pulling my revolver out. I step out into the aisle and take aim just as the bear rears up on its hind legs, towering over Charlie McCray. But I fire, hitting the bear right below the ear. It stumbles and falls on its back, and I put another one into its heart. I never liked to make animals suffer.

Richter fires again, and all four of the bears are either dead or dying. But as I'm looking up at the mess of fur and blood and the two dead people on the floor, two more bears appear right on top of the second one Richter's shot. Just poof, like their magic bears come down from the heavens to show us what's what. Then two more appear right near the one I shot, and another two near the third one Richter killed. Six bears, staring at four humans, because now it's only me, Rick Gentry,

Charlie McCray, and David Richter in here. Everyone else has had the good sense to get gone. Ain't that some shit? Rick Gentry says. He's gone over near McCray who's still staring, dumbstruck. Gentry reaches one arthritis-mangled hand out and grabs McCray by the shoulder, pulling him back away from the center aisle.

The bears look at us as if getting their bearings. I think it's time we run, I say. I do believe you're onto something there, old timer. Richter says. Fuck you, old timer. I say. You're only two years younger than me. Richter smiles as we back away down the aisle.

Suddenly, all six bears are moving. Half of them running toward me and Richter and the other half plowing through the chairs after McCray and gentry. For God's sake! I shout, running. Don't shoot them no more! We all made. Take it out the back door with the bears on our heels, but we're far from safe.

We're in the alley between the town hall and the courthouse, and there's a bear chewing on poor Mayor Liston's face down to our right. Looking left, I see a young woman run screaming across the alley with a big grizzly lumbering after her. There are screams and roars coming from what sounds like every part of our quaint little town. Still, we don't have much of a choice. This way! I shout, running to the left. Behind us, I can hear our furry pursuers banged through the back door into the alley. We turn right out of the alley and onto Center Street. I see at least five bears up and down the road. Some of them are chewing on people. Others are lumbering around, sniffing, and doing bear stuff. I lead our little group up the stairs

of the courthouse building and open the front doors. Go, go! I say, standing aside to let the others in. Into the basement! The jail cells! There's a noise behind me. I look over my shoulder and see that One of the bears has gotten onto its hind legs and is tall enough to reach the top of the short courthouse staircase. Before I can get out of the way, it grabs me and yanks me over the low stone railing. As I hit the grass of the courthouse lawn, my gun flies out of my hand. The bear swipes at me, but I turn my body, taking the brunt of the blow on my left shoulder. The pain is even worse than that time I accidentally stepped in a bear trap. I guess there's some kind of poetic justice there somewhere.

The bear's claws tears through my jacket, my shirt, my shirt, my furtive. skin and my muscle. A grunted pain. Even as I reach for the knife, I always keep in a sheath on my belt. It's a big hunting knife, and it's the handiest tool I've ever had in my whole life. And right now, it might just to save my life. I pull it out with my right hand and jam it up into the bear's neck. The animal roars and rears up, blood matting its fur around the wound. I still have the knife in my hand, but I can't reach anywhere vital on the animal anymore. It pounces down and I roll to get out of the way before its paws come down. But I'm not fast enough.

Its paws slam my left arm to the ground, breaking the bones in about half a dozen places. I grunt. My teeth clamped against the pain like the jaws of the bear trap. I stepped on all those years ago. I jammed the blade up under the bear's jaw once, and then another time in a different spot. Warm blood pours onto my hand, making the knife slippery. It rears up again, but this time I can tell it's close to death. It growls, teetering unsteadily on its hind legs.

Then it topples toward me. Rolling to my right, I get out of the way just as the bear crashes onto the ground where I was. I scrambled to my feet and head back up the courthouse stairs. And as I reached the top, I look down at the dead bear, waiting for two more to show up, like magic. I wait, and wait some more, making sure none of the other furry creatures are coming my way. No more bears appear. Finally, Rick Gentry opens the door. What the hell you're doing, old fool?

He asks. What happened? What the hell you think? I say, gesturing at my bloody shoulder. It'll take more than a couple of grislies to kill me. He helps me inside. We need to get the word out. I tell him.

No shooting. Stabbit works. Maybe even bashing them in the head will work, but no shooting. Well, all right, he says. Finally made yourself useful. You old fool? You're lucky I'm injured, I say as we head into the basement. Otherwise, I'd kick your old ass.

SCP 2875 is a phenomenon occurring only in a small northern Wisconsin town. At noon every three days, between 50 to 100 fully grown adult grizzly bears will appear throughout the town. These instances are not anomalously strong or fast, and will generally act like any other member of their species, in the situation. The phenomenon appears to be cumulative. The instances will linger around the town center for a short time before dispersing, and more instances will appear three days later. Due to the potential scaling issues of the bear population growth, it has become imperative to dispatch the new instances as quickly as possible. Currently, the only feasible means to dispatch instances is by using

a highly concentrated aerosol tranquilizer spray, and then a blunt instrument with which to cause trauma of the cranial region. As killing any of the instances using a firearm or incendiary device results in two new instances appearing next to the corpse of the deceased instance.

As such, only foundation standard motorized blunt force devices have been permitted for use against the instances. With other blunt or bladed weapons being permitted

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