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Enjoy! |  ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTER OF MY BOOK IN THE COMMENTS BELOW | image tagged in mtf-scp | made w/ Imgflip meme maker
99 views 4 upvotes Made by mcMoonBall 7 months ago in SCP
0 ups, 7mo
1: The Experiment

Doctor Wyatt Larsen watched eagerly from the viewing balcony. A fresh batch of Class-Ds had trooped in front of SCP-096’s containment cell. It was a dark cube of pure steel with a sliding door embedded in the center of it. Near this doorway was a triangular yellow sign reading:




The troops of Class-Ds, just recently picked from their respective cells, shuffled their feet and glanced at each other. They were nervous.

But they shouldn’t be for long, thought Dr. Larsen, if my invention works as it’s supposed to.

Indeed, the doctor’s invention was a special helmet that would detect SCP-096’s face and censor it from the viewer’s field of vision, thus not provoking the monster to attack. This was a revisit to Project SCRAMBLE, a similar piece of eyewear that would achieve similar effects. Unfortunately, it did not work, resulting in mass destruction.

But this time, thought Larsen, I have perfected the technology. Hopefully.

The helmets were very large, with many wires and motors completely covering the plastic exterior. Lime lenses were positioned at the front, obviously, and glowed in the dark. Larsen was very proud of his achievement, and very confident. Well, pretty confident.
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“Class-Ds,” he said into a loudspeaker, “today you will take part in an invigorating experiment, where you will be the first to test my new invention.”

The Class-Ds did not look very invigorated. Their focus was instead directed upon a nearby white sign, giving a brief description of SCP-096’s behavior:



Understandably, they were very frightened.

The young doctor cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “Er...this new invention will allow you to see 096 without its provocation. Please flick the switch on the right side of your helmet. You will see in night vision should you successfully turn on the device.”

Each Class-D did as they were told, and as they did, a sharp zapping sound erupted from the helmets, following yelps of pain.
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“Er...It’s supposed to do that. Soldiers, open 096’s enclosure and escort the subjects in. Please do not view the anomaly’s face.”

The soldiers, each in state-of-the-art military apparel, nodded. One soldier tapped in an eleven-key passcode into a code box located on the left of the door. A light underneath the code box flashed green, and the door opened.

Each subject filed inside the doorway, into the dark, dank chamber.

With the door open, the doctor could hear the contained creature’s raspy whines, which sounded disturbingly human. A few moments passed. Then a minute. And then…


A high-pitched, throaty scream filled the chamber, followed by incoherent babbling.

Larsen quickly spoke into his microphone:

“Take the prisoners out of 096’s cell! Close the door!”

The soldiers nodded, and quickly escorted each Class-D from the cell, and closed the door behind them.

“Er...was anything different? Did it do anything unusual?” asked Larsen to the squad’s captain, a man called Gaylord.

“No, sir. The second one of the prisoners saw it, the thing went into the fetal position and started screaming.”

The middle-aged doctor listened closely; 096’s babbling was getting louder.
0 ups, 7mo
“We have thirty seconds until it enters its rage mode. How many Class-Ds looked at its face?”

Captain Gaylord thought about it for a moment.

“Only two were brave enough to get in the inner chamber. The eight others stayed in the outer chamber, so...I’d say one prisoner looked at it, at the very least.”

“Class-Ds! Cover your eyes! No matter what sounds you hear, no matter how close, DO NOT OPEN YOUR EYES!”

Each prisoner covered their eyes except one, who ran down the hallway screaming.

Just then, a loud scraping noise began emanating from the cell, slowly getting louder and more intense. The screaming did not sound even remotely human now.

Even though he was not in any danger, Doctor Larsen shivered.

It’s standing up. It’s about to strike.

He barely had time to finish his thought before one of the metal walls making up SCP-096’s enclosure was violently ripped through by pale, slender hands. The SCP tore through the thick steel wall as if it were a wall of paper. The thing was tall, extremely thin, and dreadfully pale. Its arms were far out of proportion with its body, its hands reaching far below its knobby knees. It had a hunched posture, and was babbling loudly.

Though Wyatt Larsen did not look, he knew what it’s face would look like from sketches by victims: a pale, painfully frail humanoid face, eyes with no pupils or irises, and a large, gaping mouth, coated with dried gore.
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The monster ran down the corridor that one of the Class-Ds had raced down. After a few seconds, violent thumping sounds emanated from the walls, each followed by a shriek of terror. The thuds had a repugnant squelching sound to them.

And then, as quickly as they had started, the sounds had stopped, and the babbling was no more. Shaking, Doctor Larsen dropped down the observation platform, and followed the creature’s footsteps. He turned a corner, and saw the Class-D dead, his black jumpsuit stained with blood. There was blood on the walls, along with fresh scrapes. The victim had a look of pure agony and torture on his face, which was now quite a few inches away from where it should have been. And right next to the cadaver, sitting in the fetal position, was SCP-096, whimpering softly.

Gaylord stepped back. His helmet’s tinted visor did not show his face, though Larsen knew it was contorted in horror.


Clearly an understatement. Almost as if in reply, SCP-096 sniffled loudly.

None of the soldiers, or Larsen, had ever seen something so horrific in their life.

“ the janitors,” the doctor said, fighting the urge to vomit. One of the troopers nodded, and spoke into a walkie-talkie:
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“Janitorial Personell-2 requested in Hallway 7-C.”

Larsen looked away from the faceless corpse.

“Guards, go back to your positions. I’ll...uh...take care of the anomaly.”

The guards obliged, and marched down the corridors. When they were gone, the doctor bent low and picked up the quivering monster, and held it in his arms like a disgusting, deformed baby. Despite being very tall, “Shy Guy,” as he was nicknamed by staff, had no muscle mass at all, and only weighed about as much as a malnourished seven-year-old child.

After the SCP was put back into its home, and after he had contacted the head of the Internal Security Department about the incident, Larsen reflected upon the effect his helmet had, or lack thereof.

Another gizmo, wasted, he thought sadly. He was depressed because, once again, he had failed.

Most unfortunately, a very common occurrence for him.

Even though he was naturally upbeat and cheerful, he was constantly in a state of stress and anxiety. Being a high-ranking scientist for the Department of Anomaly Science was a very stressful job. Seeing such strange and unsettling things daily takes a toll on many a staff member in The Foundation. Mostly, this anxiety, quite simply, comes from being indoors for extended periods of time, among other things. The workdays were a little tough to get through, but the paycheck was worth it.
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Just then, a sudden wave of euphoria interrupted his vast disappointment, and felt something slimy and jiggly brush past his leg. He looked down, and an orange ball of goo with two stubby little arms on each side looked back at him. It had two tiny black eyes, and a wide, toothless smile. It was making comical, tiny grunts, like the ones a toddler makes. It was about the size of a puppy.


The little mass giggled, and hugged the doctor’s leg.

Doctor Larsen had heard about this little slimeball, but never got the chance to meet it. SCP-999 was left free to roam about the facility, where it could cheer up employees and potentially cure depression. The only time it was not allowed to roam was during a security breach or another such emergency, in which case it was to be locked up in a large pen that resembled a child’s room.

Larsen gently picked up the jiggly mass and squeezed it lightly, making it giggle even more. It felt as if he was holding a large piece of jello, smeared lightly in peanut butter.

“Hey, buddy,” said Larsen, patting it on the head, “my name is Wyatt. Can you say Waaaaayatt?”

999 made a wet slopping noise that almost sounded like speech. Very wet, slobbery, unintelligible speech.


The doctor smiled widely, and said: “You want something to eat?”
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He took out a bag of peanuts from his white lab coat, and held it up to where SCP 999’s nose would have been. The slimy creature bent forward a bit, examined it, and made a wet, sloppy sound that sounded remarkably similar to someone blowing a raspberry.


The monster waved its stubby little arms around wildly, and said as clearly as it possibly could:

“Beenz! Mems! Gummblys!”

It repeated these three words continuously, bouncing up and down as it spoke.

Larsen smiled.

“ want jelly beans?”

“Beenz! Beenz! Beenz!”

The doctor pulled out a small package of jelly beans, and held it in front of 999. He then tore a small, bean-sized hole in the corner of the package. He tipped over the bag, and shook out a single purple jelly bean. Grape, his favorite flavor.

“You want this?” he asked in the kind of voice he would talk to a toddler to. He waved the bean around for good measure.

The slimy creature opened and closed its mouth repeatedly, all the while making a squishy sound.

Larsen smiled, and gently fed SCP-999 the small bean. The gooey monster swallowed it, and made a noise that sounded somewhat like a burp. It giggled, and continued bobbing up and down in the doctor’s slim hands.
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“I’ll take you with me,” he said, “I have a few friends who could use some cheering up.”

More giggling from the little anomaly.

The SCP in hand, Doctor Larsen made his way up to the second floor, where the employee lounge was located. He made his way through the drab white hallways, and came across a grey door, with a large sign above it reading:



The doctor inserted his keycard into a rectangular grey terminal on the left of the door. A light on the terminal flashed green after a few seconds, and the door slid open.

The room was all white with a grey ceiling. However, the floors were made of fine, polished oak, which gave the lounge a homier feel. Scattered around were many red sofas, armchairs, and a few modern glass tables, some with chessboards, others with laptops or papers. On one side of the room was a gigantic television, slotted into the wall. Currently, there were a few grim-looking scientists sitting on the couches, their eyes fixated on the TV. It was on the Sports Channel. Football.
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In the very corner of the room, almost hidden in plain sight, was a coffee machine. It was fairly normal-looking; boxy and rectangular, with a picture of a coffee cup printed on the top. However, the only thing different with this coffee machine was that it had a computer keyboard sticking out the front. Doctor Larsen decided to do a test on it.

He walked over to the machine, keeping SCP-999 hidden from view, bent over, and typed:


The machine whirred, creaked and beeped, shaking and rumbling, until, at last, out came a small paper cup. Larsen picked it up, and examined it. The liquid dispensed was a dull silvery color, and was incredibly heavy.

Wyatt Larsen gently set the cup down, and ordered another thing:


Again, the machine obliged, and out came a small, steaming, dark cup of coffee. And, exactly as the doctor ordered, pun intended, it tasted impossibly delicious.

Yes, there was no doubt about it; this was no ordinary coffee machine. This was yet another strange object contained in the facility: SCP-294, a sentient coffee machine that could dispense anything that could exist in liquid form. Many of The Foundation’s staff had gotten their paychecks early from typing GOLD into the machine. And that was the reason there was a guard positioned in front of it.
0 ups, 7mo
Benson took the SCP out of Wyatt’s arms, and cradled the small thing like a baby.

“Oh,’re supposed to see SCP-049 next,” said Benson.

“Be careful. I know he can talk and he seems nice but...we don’t need another ‘pestilence-ridden’ doctor around here.”

Doctor Larsen checked his watch. He had forgotten all about his “meeting” with 049. He had to be in its cell within six minutes.

“Oh, alright. Thanks for telling me. You know how easily I forget things...”

Benson nodded his head.

“Yes, I know. Take care.”

“You too.”

Larsen smiled, turned away, and exited the room, wondering what his latest encounter had in store for him.
0 ups, 7mo
Larsen decided to crack a joke.

“Anyone order a cup of Joe today, Benson?”

Larsen was referring to an incident where a staff member named Joseph had typed in “a cup of joe,” and, instead of dispensing coffee, the machine dispensed a cup of Joseph’s own blood, stomach acid, and other undesirable bodily fluids.

Benson smiled, and shook his head.

“You’re not the one for jokes, Doctor Larsen, sir.”

The doctor smiled back, and responded:

“I guess. Being an employee here has changed me.”

The guard nodded.

“It’s changed all of us...not for the better, mostly.”

Larsen nodded sensibly, and was suddenly reminded of why he had come here in the first place.

“Oh, em, I brought this to cheer everyone up. Found him in the hallway.”

Wyatt revealed SCP-999, which was making cooing noises.

Benson bent down low to look at the thing.

“Haha...he’s cute.”

He gently poked 999 in the gut, making the slimy creature giggle delightedly.

“Can I hold him?”

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