The SCP Experience - We Tried to Steal Death | SCP-8361

Episode Date: July 6, 2026

A silent heist crew breaks into a museum to steal an Aztec death idol, only to discover the object is protected by the SCP Foundation—and by something far stranger than security cameras and armed guards. When a rival crew blasts through the wall and people start dying, the thieves learn the idol’s real power: within its reach, death may not be permanent. This story is derived from ⁠The SCP Foundation Database⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0.⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ ⁠⁠⁠ Author:  Jake Bible Check out Jake's latest collection of stories, They All Bleed: Ten NoSleep Stories, Volume Two https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G96H432Y * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Henry hands the security guard the stack of hundreds. The security guard hands Henry his keys. Nice doing business with you. The guard says and slips out into the alley. All you got to do is close it and it'll lock on its own. I'll just tell them that I got locked out. Henry nods and lets the back door slowly retract, then close. He doesn't say a word.

No need. He knows the guard is an idiot and will be implicated almost immediately. all the man saw were dollar signs when Henry first approached him two weeks ago. It quickly became apparent that the guard was a special kind of greedy stupid, and would certainly flip on Henry's crew the moment the police put even an infinitesimal amount of pressure on him. In a past life, Henry would have tied up that loose end with a bullet between the guard's eyes. But he's not that guy anymore.

Checking the peephole in the back door, Henry can see the guard pacing back and forth in the alley as he scrolls on his phone. The man laughs at some video, and Henry shakes his head. Then he turns to his crew and nods. Everyone moves in perfect synchronicity. Henry tosses the keys to Becca, who catches them with ease. She jogs ahead as Morris and crabs carry the padded shipping container toward the main part of the museum. Henry can't help but give the backroom a quick glance. Items aren't out in the open, but he can read the stenciling on the various crates. If he had a truck standing by, he could steal enough priceless antiquities for him and his crew and their descendants to retire in luxury for the rest of their lives.

There's a tall, thin crate propped in the corner that he knows he could move for a cool 10 million, maybe more. A small square crate sitting on a table would fetch twice that number. Sying with thoughts of what could have been, Henry sticks to the plan and follows his crew out of the back room and into one of the main exhibition space. Sticking to the plan is how jobs get done. Sticking to the plan is how he and his crew stay out of prison. Sticking to the plan keeps everyone alive. No words are spoken.

The crew knows what to do. Becca is weaving around pedestals with glass cases on top, each holding a priceless piece of history. Morris and crabs are right on her tail, although moving a little slower, a little more carefully, due to the padded shipping container they are carrying. They have to repeatedly shift their grips and turn their bodies to avoid bumping into many of the pedestals. Henry brings up the rear, his eyes taking in the video cameras in each corner,

the sensors on the walls, and the microphones hanging from the ceiling. If the paid off guard hadn't already deactivated the security system, they would also be roaming trip lasers and body heat monitoring. But a hearty stack of cash took all of those factors out of play. They move from that room and into another. Various items of Latin America origin filled the space. Becca heads straight for a large pedestal in the center of the room. Morris and Crabs follow in her wake.

Both men focused on the target, focused on Becca as she stops and studies the ring of keys in her hand. She glances back at Henry. He shrugs. She purses her lips. He shrugs again. She rolls her eyes. Then she separates out each key end, one by the eye. one starts inserting them into the keyhole embedded halfway down the pedestal. After the eighth

attempt, the key clicks home, and the front panel of the glass case on the pedestal opens. Becca grins, Morris and Crabs grin. Henry does not grin. Something has his attention, but, unfortunately, he doesn't know what it is. Did he hear something? Did he see something? Is it only a feeling? Is he panicking, losing it? He's not sure. He's not sure. He's not sure. He's, and reserves judgment on himself until he is sure, which he hopes happens soon. Seeing his hesitation, Becca raises an eyebrow. Henry shakes his head, trying to stave off her worry. Becca cocks her hip and glares.

Henry widens his eyes and shakes his head again. Morris and crabs look back and forth between the two, obviously wondering what is being communicated and whether or not they should be worried. Henry holds his hands up in a placating gesture. The two relax, then set the container down on its end, and undo the clasps on top. Henry finally moves up to the pedestal, and all four of them stand and stare at the item they have been hired to procure, not steel, because Henry hates that word, procure. Standing at almost six feet tall and half is wide, the stone idol of the Aztec goddess, Mek Tecatsywat, looms before the crew.

The crew stands there with cocky grins on their faces. Then Morris looks at the shipping container. His cocky grin slips a little. His eyes go back and forth from the container to the stone idol. His frown deepens. Being a tight-knit group, the rest of the crew sense his unease, and each gives him an inquiring look. Then they too start glancing back and forth between the idol and the shipping container. Henry's shoulders slump, Becca's shoulder slump, crabs shoulder slump, Morris' shoulders are already slumped, since he is the first to realize that the idol is probably six inches wider than they thought. It's not going to fit in the shipping container. All eyes fall on Henry. He nods, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. The crew waits.

He knows how to fix the problem, but it's not an ideal solution. Everything has been planned around the dimensions and specific type of shipping container they brought. Switching things up will require some serious improvisation of the type that makes Henry breakout. in a cold sweat. He makes a follow-me gesture. Morris and crabs hesitate. Henry nods. The two men leave the shipping container where it is and follow Henry out of the exhibition room, into the other one, and then to the back room once again. The three men stand and study the various wood crates that fill the space. Morris points at one, but Henry shakes his head. Crabs points at another. Henry He shakes his head once more. Then, almost simultaneously, they spy the perfect crate and move

quickly toward it. Morris finds a pry bar and starts in on the lid, while crabs hunts down a dolly. They'll need it, since the crate doesn't have handles and straps on the outside, like the shipping container they had brought. Henry, still having the residual effects of that feeling he got earlier, leaves the men to their task, knowing they are fully capable of handling it on their own, and walks to the back door. He looks through the peephole. The alley is empty. No security guard.

That wasn't the plan. The guy was supposed to stay in that alley and head off any unexpected visitors. Yes, the back door is closed and locked. Yes, Becca is the one who currently has the keys to the back door. No, Henry does not feel good about this, despite the fact that no one can come in from the direction of the alley. That feeling persists. It grows until Henry can feel it pressing up from his belly and into his chest.

He hurries back to Morris and Crabbs, who have emptied the crate of its previous tenant and are dollying the large wooden box out of the back room. Henry follows, and they all stop as soon as they enter the first exhibition room. The crate on the dolly will not fit down the aisles between the pedestals. Henry chuckles, earning reproachful looks from both Morris and Crabbs. He waves them off, then moves into the room. walking the length of each aisle until he has a solid sense of the entire space. He nods at Morris and Crabbs and then points to the east wall.

They don't move. He points again. Morris and Crabbs share a look. Then they dolly the crate over to the east wall. And Henry is right. The spacing there is just barely wide enough for the crate to fit. The men hurry out of the exhibition room and into the next one, where they are lucky to see that due to fewer items on display, the aisles are wide enough for the crate, giving them a direct path to the stone idol that Becca is

waiting next to. Along with a man in a black suit, a pistol in his hand, casually aimed at Becca's head as the man leans against the glass opposite the Aztec idol. He grins like the Cheshire cat and aims his chin at the crate on the dolly. It's always bigger than it seems, the man says. Made that mistake before. Henry freezes. Morris and Crabbs freeze. Then look to Henry. Becca is already frozen, her eyes locked onto the barrel of the pistol aimed at her. The man pushes off the glass case and stands straight. Any hint of humor gone in an instant.

You do know who you are stealing from, right? Henry remains silent, as does the rest of the crew. The man sighs. Oh, right. You never say a word during a job. I read that in your file. The silent crew. The man shrugs. Horrible name.

doesn't even rhyme or have alliteration. It's just a boring descriptor. Henry sees Morris's hand twitch, and he immediately shakes his head. The man in the black suit notices, Listen to your boss, Morris. You try to go for your peace, and I'll put three rounds in you before you can even get your hand on the grip. Morris fumes. The man laughs. Agent Tampa, SCP Foundation, and you four have screwed up big time. This idol, this anomaly, while it may look like it's under the safekeeping of this museum,

which it technically is, it is also under the protection of the foundation. And the second your crew decided to try to boost it, we got a call. Henry says nothing. Tambor laughs. Got nothing to say? Gonna stay in character, are you? Okay, fine. Do that.

I don't mind doing all the talking. He tucks his pistol inside his suit coat, then holds his hands up. Let's make this a little friendlier, shall we? He turns his attention on Becca. And don't think you can take me, Brooke Becca. This gun is more for show. I have protection on me that will turn you inside out if you even think of getting violent. Henry takes a step forward.

No, no, none of that. Tambor aims a finger at Henry. Stay right where you are. Henry stops. Good. Now, we're going to have a little chat. Then the four of you are going to tuck tail and roll. leave this museum. Empty-handed, of course. There's no way this little lady is going with you folks.

Henry Cox's head. I'm serious, Henry. Your little heist is over. Done. Caput. I don't know how much money you are in, but you are going to have to give back any advance you've got and eat the cost of setting this job up. Sorry, but them's the brakes. Henry smiles. No, see. Now you're thinking of how to get around me and complete the job. Hank. Please, buddy, let me make this very clear that there is no way this idol is leaving. The West Wallis explodes, and a hail of concrete tears through the exhibition room, chunks destroying everything in their path, including the people standing in the room. Coughing against the cloud of concrete dust that envelops everything,

Henry realizes he's flat on his back, and his head is killing him. He reaches up and touches his scalp, his hand coming away bloody. He tries to push up onto his elbows, but the room, spins around him and he asks to pause. Cough some more, then try again. On the second attempt, he's able to sit up a little. He immediately sees the beams of flashlights strobing through the cloud of concrete dust. Henry knows those flashlights are attached to the barrels of assault rifles from the way they move back and forth, covering everything before them. Turning to roll behind a pedestal that's still upright, Henry stops as he comes face to face with a glassy-eyed Morris. The

Man's features are slack, his eyes empty. There's a long sliver of display glass sticking out of the top of the man's head. Henry wants to scream, but now is not the time. Men speaking Spanish shout orders and move quickly toward the Aztec idol. Henry manages to get onto his hands and knees and crawls quickly behind the pedestal, hoping he's hidden enough from this new team of thieves. He tries to ignore Morris's corpse, but it's not easy. It's been a decade since he last saw a dead body.

and Henry had hoped he'd go the rest of his lifetime without seeing the sight again. A hope dashed. Gunfire erupts, and Henry is experienced enough to know that it's not any of the assault rifles. Sounds to him like a 9mm, a single one, Agent Tamber. A couple of men cry out in Spanish, and the number of flashlight beams Henry sees decreases by two. Then the assault rifles kick in, and all hell breaks loose. Any glass not shattered by the wall breach is shattered now, heavy rounds tear through the exhibition room. Henry hears Becca cry out, but there's

nothing he can do except flatten himself on the floor and cover his head with his arms. The gunfire continues, but gets progressively less and less, until there's one last gunshot, followed by silence. A silence quickly broken by Agent Tamber's voice. Henry, you good? Henry doesn't answer. Crabbs, Morris, how are you guys? Henry smiles when neither replies. Then his smile falls away as he remembers why Morris isn't answering. The dust has dispersed enough that Henry can see Morris's corpse clearly from where he is. Agent Tambor laughs. Don't know why I'm unexpecting an answer from the silent crew. His laughter fades. God, that's an awful name. You should

really think of changing it to the silent four or something like that. Footfalls. Henry looks up. Agent Tamber is walking toward him, but pauses at Morris's body. Ah, shit. That sucks. I guess Silent 4 would be one too many now. Henry's face scrunches up in rage, and he shoves up onto his feet, aiming his anger straight at the foundation agent. Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your roll, Hank. I'm not your enemy here. Henry gets to Agent Tambor, and, without pausing his stride, swings a wild, emotion-filled punch at the man's head. Tambor ducks it easily and throws a jab into Henry's midsection. All of the air leaves Henry's lungs in one painful whoosh.

Then he's down on a knee, struggling to breathe. Calm the hell down, man. Tamber says, shaking out his fist. Shit, how many crunches a day do you do? Your abs are like steel. Henry can only glare up at the man. Tambor stretches, then rolls his neck, before squatting by Morris' shoulders.

Help me carry it, will you? Henry's glare deepens. Jesus, calm down, okay? I'm gonna fix this, so you and your crew can get the hell out of here before the local law enforcement dipshits arrived. Dealing with those assholes is always a treat. Henry is shaking with rage.

Christ, fine, don't help me. Agent Tambor shoves his arms under Morris' armpits and stands. He starts dragging the body away from Henry and over to the Astak Idol's pedestal, where the statue still stands, completely unharmed. Henry's on his feet and charging Tambor in the blink of an eye. Then Becca steps in front of him, her face pressed to his,

her eyes telling him to back off. He grinds his teeth, But Becca doesn't give in. Henry tries to get past her, but she places a palm to his chest and puts all of her weight and strength behind it. Her eyes are still pleading for him to back off. Finally, he relents. Becca takes a step back and shows Henry her clothes. Becca laughs and pulls up her shirt to show skin-stained blood, but no wounds of any kind. Damn her says as he sets Morris's body down next to the Aztec Idol's pedestal. He's about to say more, but his chest explodes as bullets ripped through his body. He collapses across Morris, revealing crabs standing behind him, an assault rifle in his hands.

He drops the weapon and falls to his knees, shoving Tambor out of the way to get to Morris. Crabbs' hands hover over the hunk of glass, sticking out of Morris's scalp. Tears fill his eyes. Then Tambor coughs, rolls over and sits up. Damn it! Will you assholes calm the hell down? He stands and looks at his suit. The three living members of the crew can only stare at the man who should be dead. Tambor reaches out and pats the idol, his grin nearly splitting his face.

You don't know shit about this baby, do you? Of course, there is no response. Yeah, well, I know a lot. Such as close proximity can protect you from harm. It can also heal you rapidly, especially if you have touched it previously. Tamber looks down at Morris' body. This might work. It might not. We're really testing the boundaries of all Santa Wente here. He kneels and plucks the glass shard from Morris' scalp. Crabbs start to move toward Tambur,

but a pistol in his face stops him cold. I'm helping. You are not, Tamber says, then puts his pistol away. Now, help me lift him so we can touch the idol. When Crabs doesn't move, Becca hurries over and helps Tambur get Morris into a semi-upright position. She scrunches her nose and grimaces. Yeah, he voided his bells when he died, Tamber says. They do that, he smirks. He's going to want to change his drawers when he comes back.

Henry, that feeling nagging at his guts, takes a step forward, but stops as soon as Tamber places Morris's hand on the idol. It takes less than two seconds before Morris's entire body shudders, shakes, and comes alive in a sudden intake of breath. His eyes move madly in his head, and he starts thrashing. throwing punches and kicks like a crazy man. Becca moves in and hugs him tight. Morris tries to fight her off, but she refuses to relent.

Then his eyes begin to focus and look around. He relaxes. Becca is ripped off of Morris and replaced by a sobbing crabbs. Agent Tamber steps back and nods, smiling widely. God works in mysterious ways, he says, and focuses his smile on Henry. Now you know why you were paid so much for this job. Henry realizes his mouth is hanging open and he says, shock. He snaps it closed and turns his attention away from the resurrected Morris and onto

Tamber. Tell me, Henry, do you think this idol should be allowed to fall into the wrong hands? Or should it stay here? All safe and sound? Henry moves his gaze to the massive, jagged hole in the wall. Okay, point taken, Agent Tamber laughs. But you know what I mean. There's Simony, then a man with an assault rifle stands up. Tamber rushes him, popping the guy in the jaw and sending him falling to the floor. The agent is on the man and pulling his arms behind his back as he fishes in a suit coat pocket for a handful of zip ties. Help me before they all come back.

Henry and Becca both hurry to tamber, each taking a few zip ties. They sprint around the exhibition space, finding the dead attackers, rolling them over, yanking their arms back and zip tying their wrists together. The last one Henry is trying to secure begins to squirm in his grip. He drops an elbow onto the back of the man's head, and he stills. Then he finishes, zip-tying the man's wrists and stands up. Great job, kids! Tambor says, as Henry and Becca join him over by the first guy, who came back alive,

I'll call this in, and the foundation will take care of these assholes. Crabbs and Morris walk over to him, and they all sort of blink at each other, except for Tambur. The agent just grins. Well, this has been fun, but I think it's time for you to go. claps his hands. Unless you want to end up in a holding cell at a foundation site, which you really don't want to happen. These assholes don't want that either, but it's out of their hands at this point. You blow through a museum wall and start killing folks, and well, there are going to be

consequences. Henry narrows his eyes. Tambor nods. I know you guys came for the idol too, but your plan was benign. These dickhead's plans were a malignant and a half. It's a malignancy that spreads. So I have a feeling the foundation brass will make examples of them in order to warn off any future dipshit's with future dipshit ideas. Henry raises an eyebrow. Yep, you and your crew are free to go. Henry doesn't miss a beat and smacks his crew on the shoulders, turns and jogs toward the back room. The crew is right on his heels. When he gets to the back room, Henry pauses. His eyes fall on all of the crates. Their job just got blown to shit, so walking away empty-handed is a hard pill to swallow.

Tamba shouts from two exhibition rooms away, Henry looks at his crew, gauging their mood. He's sure that Tambor is right, and it's best that they leave now without anything to show for it. But Becca is the first to shake her head, then crabs, then Morris, although he flinches a little and rubs the spot on a scalp where the glass shard had been only minutes earlier. Henry takes another look around. Seriously? Henry rolls his eyes.

to nods to his crew. They all walk out the back door and into the alley, passing an unconscious security guard by the dumpster. When they get to the street, they split up, each heading in four different directions. The job wasn't completed, but they are all still alive. Henry takes that as a win. Sirens fill the air as Henry lowers his head, tucks his chin against his chest, and wanders off in anonymity through the throng of pedestrians filling the sidewalk. According to the United States Mexican Archaeological Heritage Agreement. SCP-8361 is the designation for a stone idol of Aztec goddess Mek de Katsuat. The idol is two meters in height, one meter in width at its base, and weighs 192 kilograms.

It depicts a skeletal female figure with an agape jaw. When in the vicinity of SCP 8361, estimated to be within a 20-meter radius minimum, specific individuals become impervious to harm. Thanks for listening. Be sure to click that follow button with all notifications on to get notified every time a new episode is released.