Chapter Text
SCP.
Secure, Contain, Protect.
The low rumbling of tires echoed within the transport vehicle. Within the transport sat six individuals: five men in black tactical gear, carrying semi-automatic rifles, and the entity they were transferring, sitting between two of the agents. The entity was a young man with brown hair, a slight wave, and light blue eyes. He was wearing an orange prison-style jumpsuit and handcuffs clasped on his wrists. Printed on the back of the jumpsuit were three letters at the top and a four-digit number below, in blocky black text: 'SCP-5258'. Directly below the number was the organization's symbol that had detained him: three arrows pointing inward, encircled by a ring and outlined. The vehicle briefly passed over a road divot, startling the young man. With a nervous look, he turns to one of the field agents on the other side of the transport, sitting on the far end of the bench. "Excuse me? Can you loosen these, please?" asked the young man, holding his bound wrists.
The field agent he was addressing looked in the young man's direction. "We can't do that." The field agent's tone was neither hostile nor overly kind towards the young man. These agents have been tasked with delivering this young man to an unknown location. It is not their job to make him comfortable.
The young man resigns himself. "Alright." The young man's gaze shifts between the field agent and his firearm. "Can you at least put those things down? You're making me anxious." The Agent acknowledges the young man's request and signals the other agents to lower their weapons. They might not have to make him comfortable, but they do not need to scare him. The young man presses his back and head against the vehicle's wall for the rest of the transport.
During the two-hour transportation, the young man fell asleep. Soon, the vehicle came to a slow, jerky stop, but the young man remained asleep. "Get up!" A different agent ordered, shoving the young man to the floor, abruptly waking him up. Armed agents open the vehicle's rear doors from the outside. A set of short stairs folds out from the base of the car. "Exit the vehicle!" said the same Agent, gesturing with his firearm at the young man.
"Okay, okay. You could've just asked," the young man spoke, standing up and stepping down the stairs, attempting to rub his sore face with his manacled hands. "Ow." The five agents surround the young man, two on his side and one behind him, and guide him into a building he believes is the Prison he's been sent to. The building is massive, with a sizable chain-link fence separating it from the outside area. Little did this young man know that this would be the last time he would ever see natural sunlight. Occasionally, when the young man would slow down to take in his surroundings, the guard behind him would jab him with the barrel of his rifle and order him to keep moving.
Once inside the building, the agents placed the young man in a holding area and then left the room individually. "Wait here!" the last of the Agents ordered. The young man held his bound wrists, gesturing to the empty room and asking rhetorically where he would go, as he had no idea where he was. The young man remained in the holding cell for forty-five minutes before a different agent entered the room, although it might have been the same Agent who had left earlier. It's hard to tell since they all look the same with those helmets on. "Stand in front of the door." The Agent didn't sound familiar, but the young man did as instructed. The door opened, and the Agent gestured for the young man to exit the cell with his firearm. "Follow me."
The young man does as he is instructed. He extends his restrained wrists. "Can you please take these off?" The Agent looks cautiously at the young man. "Oh, come on. I'm not going anywhere! I've been nothing but compliant since you wack jobs abducted me! Besides, I doubt I'd get far," he spoke hesitantly, looking at the gun.
The Agent sighs and pulls out a key ring. He sifts through the keys and finds the appropriate one. He unlocks the handcuffs bound around the young man's wrists. "You run, and I'll shoot you!" the Agent threatened the young man, who nodded, rubbing his sore wrists.
The Agent led the young man down the white corridor. The floors and ceiling were painted white, and the floor was a dull gray tile. The young man noticed the main corridor branched off into smaller hallways. When he looked down one of the halls, he saw some doors on either side. In his brief moment, he saw something written on the doors: 'SCP-' There was a number after the string of letters, but he couldn't make it out as he walked away. Eventually, the Agent and the young man reach a sealed door, which the Agent slides open. The Agent instructs the young man to enter the room. The room was a modified doctor's office, featuring several pieces of medical equipment that he did and did not recognize, including an X-ray machine, an MRI scanner, and a CT scanner. Sitting at a table in the middle of the room were two men in lab coats: one wore a brown, wide-brimmed hat, and the other had short, black hair. "Gotta live one for ya, docs," spoke the Agent.
The two doctors could not be more opposite. The two doctors were sitting at a table in the room. Sitting at the far end of the table was an overweight man, looking somewhat disheveled. The doctor covered his stubbly face. He was wearing a brown, wide-brimmed hat that obscured the top half of his face, an obnoxious, bright-pink Hawaiian shirt with an equally colorful green floral pattern beneath his white lab coat, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick, hairy arms, and a pair of brown cargo shorts. And dare I even think, white knee socks with Birkenstock sandals! Oh, the horror! The other doctor was almost the exact opposite. He sat opposite the first doctor. This doctor was fit and clean-shaven, and he sat with an air of dignity, his hands folded together on the table. The first doctor reclined in his chair, his feet on the table. The second doctor has short black hair and bright blue eyes. He wore a teal turtleneck under his lab coat and brown slacks.
The doctor in the Hawaiian shirt smiled devilishly, revealing cartoonishly sharp teeth. Immediately upon seeing his teeth, the young man stepped back. "Aw, don't be like that. I don't bite… much," said the doctor in the Hawaiian shirt, chuckling in a deep voice. The second doctor cleared his throat and allowed the young man to take a seat.
After a few seconds of apprehension, the young man approached the table where the two doctors were. The first doctor brought his feet down and sat up as he took his seat. Finally, the doctor with black hair spoke up. "Thank you for cooperating with us. My name is James Hathrow. This… thing is Dr. Alto Clef."
"Hey!" Dr. Clef waved. This bothered the young man, who couldn't see the doctor's face.
"I will conduct a simple medical examination while Dr. Clef asks you some questions," said Dr. Hathrow. He stood up from the table and gathered his medical tools.
Dr. Clef placed a recording device on the table and began recording. "Mind if I record this?" Dr. Clef asked, hovering his finger over the red button. The young man responded, asking if he had a choice. But he knew the answer already; he did not. The doctor chuckled. "Heh, got the point." Dr. Clef picked up a pen. "State your name."
"Arlo, Arlo Carinwald."
"Thank you, can you tell me why you're here?" asked Dr. Clef.
Dr. Hathrow interjects. "Hold still, please," he asked, holding up an otoscope and looking into Arlo's ear. "Continue."
Arlo answers Dr. Clef's question. "I'm here because those armored agents threatened to shoot me!"
Dr. Clef transcribed what Arlo said with additional notes: "We understand that an agent brought you into custody a few weeks ago. Can you tell us about that? Describe the events that happened in your own words."
"I guess so. I was walking home from class when a guy with a knife tried to mug me." Arlo tried to explain as best he could.
"According to your file, he attempted to rob you. Can you tell us what happened?" asked Dr. Clef
"I… didn't know what to do. The man came at me with the knife, but then he stopped."
"You mean he didn't try to hurt you and move around, or?" Dr. Clef paused.
"No, like, he froze!" Arlo seemed confused by his words, as if he didn't believe what he saw with his own eyes.
Dr. Hathrow chimed in. "Froze, how? Hold still again." Dr. Hathrow clasped a blood pressure cuff around Arlo's arm and began to pump. "Okay, continue." Dr. Hathrow noted that Arlo's blood pressure was 120/80.
"He… didn't freeze exactly, not like ice. It was like hitting the Pause button on a movie, but he could still talk. It doesn't make any sense! I don't know. What's happening to me?! What are you going to do to me!" Arlo appeared distressed.
Dr. Hathrow was writing down something on his clipboard. "Please remain calm, 5258."
Arlo looked at Dr. Hathrow, shocked. "What?"
Dr. Hathrow looks up from his clipboard. "We are not trying to harm you. We need any information about your anomalous traits, 5258."
Arlo appears perturbed by the title; Dr. Hathrow was addressing him. "My name is Arlo," he said sternly.
Dr. Clef attempted to alleviate the tension in the room. "Well, I take it we're done now, Jimmy? In that case, follow me, Arlo."
Dr. Clef and Dr. Hathrow led Arlo out of the office and across the building. Occasionally, Arlo would see groups of people wearing orange jumpsuits like his own, with the words 'D-Class Personnel' printed on the back in blocky black letters. But, just as often as he'd watch the groups enter rooms, he'd also be horrified at the sight of bloody and dismembered bodies being carried out of adjacent rooms. "Oh god, are you gonna kill me!"
"Don't worry. You're only slightly more valuable than D class." Dr. Clef jokes, but this only makes Arlo more anxious.
Dr. Clef presents Arlo with a closed door with the letters' SCP-' printed in blocky lettering. The door slides open, and Arlo is ushered into the room. The room is almost empty, except for a small bed on a flimsy metal frame, a single large observation window along the wall beside the electronic door, and a white-painted brick wall with a gray tiled floor. "I'm never going to leave, am I?" he turned to Dr. Clef and Dr. Hathrow, his expression worried.
"Don't worry. You're not going to be in any real danger. We need to keep you here for observation and testing." Dr. Clef tried to reassure Arlo.
Arlo stood in the room, watching as the two doctors left. He curled up on the blanket, holding his legs close to his chest and turning away from the observation window. The bed creaked horrendously. The bright fluorescent lights strained his eyes and buzzed in his ears like angry bees.
Dr. Clef watched Arlo from the window. "Can't help but feel bad. He didn't ask for any of this."
"Careful, Alto. Don't forget what this place is all about. It is a Prison, Clef! It looks like a human."
Dr. Clef appeared very irritated by Hathrow's comment. "And maybe YOU should remember who you're talking to!" Dr. Clef grabbed Hathrow's shirt. Dr. Clef raised his head, revealing three eyes: two normal eyes and one in the middle of his forehead. Each of his eyes is a different color; the right eye is green, the left eye is blue, and the one on the forehead is brown. "Most of us are no different from him. Just look at Crow! It ain't the kid's fault he was born like that! We should understand that!"
Irritated, Dr. Hathrow forcibly removed Clef's hand from his shirt. "Good evening, Dr. Clef." Dr. Hathrow spoke sternly and walked away. Dr. Clef looked back at Arlo's Containment cell before walking in the opposite direction.
After several hours, the cell's lights suddenly shut off with a loud Thunk. Startled by the change in visibility, Arlo sat up, confused. He glanced over to the observation window. He saw the silhouette of an armed guard facing away from the window. Although the guard briefly turned to look into the cell, Arlo flinched and lay back on the bed, pretending to be asleep so the guard would stop staring. Eventually, Arlo fell asleep.
Later still, the lights flash on, briefly disorienting Arlo with the sudden brightness. Dr. Clef and Dr. Hathrow entered the cell. Dr. Clef was wearing a different-colored Hawaiian shirt—a more obnoxious, bright yellow-and-blue one. "Morning, 5258. Sleep well?" asked Dr. Hathrow. Morning? It was as if Arlo could tell in a windowless room artificially lit by fluorescent lights.
Dr. Hathrow looked at Arlo. He appeared very restless and disheveled, with dark circles under his eyes. "No, I didn't sleep at all."
"Oh? Why is that?" asked Dr. Clef.
"The sound! It sounded like a slaughterhouse! What do you people keep in this house of horrors?"
"Trust me, Kid, you don't wanna know." Dr. Clef jotted something down on a clipboard. "But I'm sorry to hear that. I'll request some soundproofing for your cell if that'll help. Here. Put these on." Arlo is unsure if he should feel comforted by Clef's transparency about his situation. Dr. Clef presented Arlo with a set of folded-up clothes: a white shirt, socks, shoes, orange pants, and a jacket.
Clef and Hathrow left the room to allow Arlo to change out of his prison jumpsuit. Arlo had noticed a small patch sewn on the front featuring a four-digit number '5258.' The two doctors reentered the room. "Ready for some tests?" Dr. Clef asked vaguely.
Arlo seems unsettled by Dr. Clef's comment. "Tests? I didn't know I needed to take a test?"
"Don't worry. You won't be in any danger. Just come with us." Dr. Clef reassures, placing his arm over Arlo's shoulder and guiding him out of the cell.
Before leaving, Dr. Clef pulled a velcro patch from his coat pocket and slapped it on Arlo's left sleeve. The patch featured the SCP Foundation logo with the word 'Euclid' superimposed. "Euclid? What's that for?"
"I won't bore you with extraneous details. Let's say we're being cautious. It just means we don't know if you'll break containment. We're conducting these tests to understand your abilities and maybe bump you from Euclid to Safe." Dr. Clef gave a wide, toothy grin. "With any luck, you won't be stuck in that cell for the rest of your life." It is not pleasant to give people false hope, Dr. Clef.
The two doctors lead Arlo down the minimalist hallway. Arlo had already resigned himself to the idea of being stuck within these marble walls for the rest of his natural life, however long or short it may be. Arlo was brought before a set of automatic double doors, with the placard above reading 'Multipurpose Testing Chamber.' Arlo couldn't understand why, but standing in front of this door felt more like standing before the hangman's noose.
Dr. Clef brought Arlo into the room, and Dr. Hathrow went through a side door, moving into an adjoining observation chamber. Like most of the decor in the facility, the room was stark white. Inside the room were around twenty individuals, not counting Dr. Clef and Arlo. Arlo made an unfortunate connection when he noticed that these individuals were wearing the identical orange jumpsuits as the people he had seen the day before: the infamous D-Class. The only thing going through Arlo's head was, 'I don't want to know what the D stands for.'
Dr. Clef stood before the D class, a diverse group of individuals from various racial, gender, and physical backgrounds. "Alright. You see this guy here!" Dr. Clef addressed the group, pointing at Arlo. "I want you to attack him with the intent to kill him! Understand!"
"You want them to do what?" Arlo Objected.
Dr. Clef approaches Arlo. "Like so!"
Arlo seemed confused. "Wait, what-oof!" Dr. Clef delivered a swift, unprovoked punch to Arlo's stomach. In response, Arlo had the wind knocked out of him. He held his stomach and fell to his knees. "Why?" Arlo wheezed, falling over.
Dr. Clef helped Arlo to his feet. "You have your orders. Now go!" Dr. Clef stood back. The D class all ran at Arlo. The first of the D class, D-3744838, reeled back for a punch only to stop before the hit connected suddenly. As expected, Arlo flinched, falling back onto the ground. Arlo looked behind D-3744838, noticing that the other D class had also frozen. Dr. Clef approached Arlo and the frozen D class with a tape measure. Dr. Clef extends the yellow tape between Arlo and D-3744838's fist. "25 cm. (10 in)" handed Arlo the tape. "Hold this." Dr. Clef extended the tape measure to the last member of the frozen D class. "6. M. (20.)." Meanwhile, Dr. Hathrow jotted down the two measurements Dr. Clef had taken in the adjoining room, along with additional notes on the experiment. Dr. Clef paused in the test chamber and then looked at Arlo. "Hey, Kid, leave the room." Dr. Clef made a shooing motion. "Go on. Git!" Arlo begrudgingly agreed with Dr. Clef out of fear of getting punched again. He appreciated that Dr. Clef didn't refer to him by his containment number, but still felt patronized. Arlo nodded and approached the door. "Jameson, open the door." The doors at the front and back of the room opened.
"Not my name." Dr. Hathrow muttered to himself.
Dr. Clef corralled the D class into a door at the back of the room while Arlo walked out into the hallway. The door slammed shut as Arlo left the room, catching Arlo's right sleeve. "Ah, hey!!" Arlo tugged at his sleeve. Arlo eventually got free, tearing off his sleeve and falling backward. "Aw, dammit," Arlo growled, annoyed. Arlo would not know, but Hathrow closed the door on him.
Arlo sat down on the floor, pressing his back against the door. Arlo sat in contemplation, coming to terms with the idea that this was the first day of the rest of his life, stuck in a monotonous white room all day, only to be briefly taken down another monotone hallway and thrown at God Knows What in a different room just to be put back. Rinse, repeat. Ad nauseum until he dies. As Arlo was thinking, a man cast a shadow over him. Arlo looked up, seeing a slim young man with ginger hair, glasses, and a peculiarly ornate white-gold pendant with a red gemstone at its center. "Hiya." The man spoke with a smile and a wave. "And who is this little lost puppy?"
Arlo opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, I'm Ar—" he paused and sighed. "I'm SCP-5258." Arlo seemed annoyed, speaking deadpan.
The Ginger Man's eyes gleamed. "OH! So you're the one Clef hasn't been able to shut up about." He said with a chuckle. "I'm Dr. Shaw, Elias Shaw." Dr. Shaw offered a hand, and Arlo shook it. Dr. Shaw walked away, returning to his work. "It was nice to meet you, Arlo. But I should go. Clef and I aren't allowed to be in the same room. It's complicated." Arlo waved at Dr. Shaw as he walked off, but he could have sworn he never told Dr. Shaw his name. How did he know that?
Arlo felt a little better after his brief chat with Dr. Shaw, and a small smile crept across his face. As he watched Dr. Shaw leave, the door suddenly slid open, and Arlo fell onto his butt in front of Dr. Clef and Hathrow. Dr. Clef quickly bent over, grabbed Arlo under either arm, and hoisted him up to his feet. "Alright, Kiddo, we've got another test to do." Clef slung his arm over Arlo's shoulder as he guided him down the corridor, the hairs on Clef's arms bristling against Arlo's face. "What happened to your jacket? I just had that made for you!"
The two doctors guide Arlo down the hallway to an interview room. Arlo looks through the observation window. Inside the room was a man —or a reasonable approximation of one —wearing thick black robes and a white ceramic mask with a long facial protrusion resembling a bird's. This 'Plague Doctor' sat at the far end of the interview table. It was sitting patiently, hands folded. Arlo felt exceedingly uncomfortable about the entity in the room. "What EXACTLY do you want me to do?" he asked, very concerned. The Plague Doctor slowly moved its head to look out of the window, and just as slowly, it waved its hand before returning to its previous position. Arlo flinched away, now realizing that what he was looking through wasn't a Twoway Mirror, but just a window.
"Don't panic. 5258, 049 has assured us that it will cooperate. You won't be in any danger. Just don't touch it," Dr. Hathrow advised. Arlo does not feel reassured by that. Why is he not allowed to touch it!? Dr. Clef handed Arlo an earbud, which Arlo put in his left ear. Dr. Hathrow instructed Arlo to approach the interrogation room door. Initially, Arlo scowled at Dr. Hathrow, calling him '5258,' but nodded. The two doctors entered an adjoining room to observe the test.
Arlo entered the testing room, followed by the door closing behind him. The room was sterile and empty. The only things in the room were the interrogation table and two chairs. The stale air in the room made Arlo choke, and looking at this Plague Doctor sent a chill up his spine. Arlo has a terrible feeling that he shouldn't be here, but he also knows he has to comply with the test because he doesn't know what might happen if he doesn't. He approached the table and sat in the chair opposite the Plague Doctor, which was freezing and metallic. From the adjoining observation room, Dr. Hathrow spoke into a recording device. "Subject SCP-5258 has entered the testing room with Euclid object 049. Begin recording."
"Greetings, forgive me if I don't shake your hand. I'm sure you understand?" said the doctor in a cold and meticulous voice. Arlo meekly waved and greeted the doctor. "The researchers here refer to me as '049,' but you may call me doctor. May I ask who you are?" the doctor asked very politely. Arlo responded carefully, giving him only his Containment number. The last thing he wants is for this… THING to know his real name! "Most intriguing, I've never met someone with a four-digit number. Consider yourself lucky. You do not carry the Pestilence within you." 049's words were meticulous, cold, and precise. Its voice echoed in its mask. Each word cut into Arlo like a knife. What did he mean by 'Pestilence'?
"I see. That's a Relief (I guess?), thanks, Doc." Arlo feigned a smile through his fear of this entity.
"Doctor," 049 corrected Arlo. "Forgive me. I'm a naturally curious individual. You have a designation, 5258. Therefore, you must have a unique attribute, such as myself?" Arlo politely refused the offer. Again, he didn't want to tell this thing more than he had to! "Very well. Keep your secrets." The doctor reclined in his chair, folding his hands.
Arlo paused and placed his hand on the hidden earpiece. Dr. Clef spoke to Arlo. Arlo removed his hand from his head. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, then collected his thoughts. "So, Doc, give it to me straight. Is all this you? Or is it just some cheap Halloween costume?" Suddenly, Arlo acted much more relaxed and flippant with the doctor.
With its unmoving face, 049 expressed confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. I can assure you, this is my flesh."
"See, I'm not too inclined to believe you. Why don't you give me a demonstration?" Arlo spoke to the doctor in an uncharacteristically mocking tone.
Arlo bullied and angered 049 for 10 minutes. "Aw, what's wrong, Big Bird? Too chicken to admit defeat!! Bawk. bawk. bawk."
049 slams its hands on the table. "ENOUGH!!" The doctor reached for Arlo with his outstretched hand, only to suddenly stop roughly twenty-five (25) centimeters from touching Arlo. Arlo flinched and fell back onto the floor, shielding his face with his arm. "My, what an interesting turn of events." Almost immediately, the doctor regains his ability to move. "That's enough excitement for one day. Shall I leave now?" 049 looked directly at the security camera in the corner of the room. Dr. Hathrow spoke from the room's intercom, instructing 049 to approach the door on the opposite end of the room. A buzzer sounds inside the room as the door opens. Shortly after 049 returned to containment, Arlo left the testing room and met with Dr. Clef and Dr. Hathrow. Arlo was holding himself, his arms wrapped around his midsection. He appeared very distressed, shaking, and making frightened whimpers. "So… how was your visit with the Good Doctor?" asked Dr. Clef.
Arlo looked over at Dr. Clef, worn and horrified. "W-what was he going to do to me?" Dr. Clef explained 049's 'touch of death.' SCP-049 claims to be able to sense an affliction called 'the pestilence.' Whether or not this is an actual disease remains to be seen. Dr. Clef mentions that 049 claims that normal, non-anomalous people with perfectly clean bills of health have the Pestilence. According to Dr. Clef, if 049 touches you, you die. Afterward, 049 will operate on your corpse, reanimating you as a Zombie-like creature. Arlo slowly turns to look at Dr. Clef and grabs him by the shirt. "You… LOCKED ME IN A ROOM WITH THAT THING! AND TOLD ME TO MAKE FUN OF IT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!" Arlo vigorously shakes Dr. Clef back and forth. Judging by his shit-eating grin, Dr. Clef didn't seem too affected by it. “*BZZT* GAH!” But, Dr. Hathrow suddenly struck Arlo with a taser, causing him to fall unconscious.
Dr. Clef looks at the unconscious Arlo on the floor, shocked. "Was that necessary?" Clef thinks this act was a significant overreaction; however, Dr. Hathrow retorts that it was because they don't yet understand its full capabilities.
"Guards, take SCP 5258 back to its cell." The two Guards do as instructed, grabbing Arlo by either arm and dragging him back.