章節 3: SCP-106 ⨷ The Old Man
It's 3 a.m., and the facility is eerily quiet. Office workers and administrators meander through the halls like zombies. Security officers stand at their posts, decked out in advanced tactical armor and gripping standard-issue M4 carbines like they're about to fend off a zombie apocalypse.
Three Foundation employees huddle around flickering monitors, fixated on a live feed from the containment cell of the infamous SCP-106, or, as it's affectionately known around the office, "the old man."
No Foundation personnel are allowed within 60 feet of the cell for their own safety, and physical interaction with the anomaly requires the approval of two-thirds of the O5 Command—because one voice of reason clearly isn't enough.
The observers' eyes itch and burn from hours of unending blue light exposure, but they're glued to the screen. The old man is a crafty bastard. He might have the insatiable bloodlust of a hungry great white shark, but he's no mindless predator. He's a calculating sociopath, more sadistic than a serial killer who got a degree in torture, and he's always on the hunt for his next opportunity.
Foundation records suggest he's been active since at least World War II. He's probably racked up hundreds, if not thousands, of victims—many of whom made the fatal mistake of underestimating him. It only takes a moment of inattention, a split-second lapse in concentration, for him to make his move. And trust me, you'll find out just like they did.
The old man's nickname is no coincidence. Most of the time, he looks exactly like an old man—or more accurately, an old man's rotting corpse. His body is covered in dark, grayish-black flesh that looks like a horror movie prop gone bad. Though the creature can change shape, the rot runs too deep for him to ever fully hide.
Foundation employees who've observed SCP-106 for extended periods have reported seeing it transform into grinning, decayed children and women whose rotted flesh barely clings to their creaking bones. Just seeing these images through a video feed is enough to give you a lifetime of insomnia and other delightful sleeping disorders.
Still, the job has to be done, so the cameras stay locked on the old man. He's been completely motionless for three months, sitting there like a Buddhist monk in deep meditation. Office workers might see this inactivity as cause for celebration, but the seasoned staff know it's just the calm before the storm.
SCP-106 can remain in a dormant state for months—what Foundation scientists call a "lolling state." It's believed that the old man is simply waiting for his captors to get complacent, make a mistake, or suffer a momentary lapse in concentration. All it takes is a tiny window of opportunity, and he'll seize it.
One of the observers must have felt a wave of anxiety when he saw the creature twitch, just a tiny shiver in its shoulder muscles. That was enough to signal that their night was about to take a turn for the worse. He grabbed the emergency phone fixed to his desk and practically screamed into the receiver for a tactical team, but by then, it was already too late.
He and the other two observers watched in horror as a gooey, rust-like substance began to pool around the creature on the floor of its cell. The old man slowly craned his withered neck, his face twisted into a broad, lipless grin. His eyes had the dull, flat malice of an underwater predator. He looked directly into the camera, directly at them, and smiled.
The observers knew this was bad. Really bad. With what could have been a little nod of satisfaction, the old man began sinking into the rusty puddle, disappearing entirely.
SCP-106 can phase through any solid surface with ease, making it one of the most challenging entities to contain. This earned it a spot in the dreaded Keter class, reserved for anomalies that are nightmares to keep locked up. Over the years, the Foundation has devised methods to at least slow the creature down. It's known to have an aversion to lead, complex or random physical structures, and intense bright light. None of these cause harm, but they might buy you a few precious extra seconds to escape.
Seconds that the three observers didn't have.
One of them grabbed the emergency line again and barked that they'd lost a visual of the anomaly. Just then, a faint crackling sound and the hissing of a chemical burn filled the room. They turned in horror to see a huge, rusty burn mark expanding across the wall next to the door—their only escape route. They backed away as a rotten hand began reaching out from the corrosive black sludge, followed by the grinning face of SCP-106, eager to play.
Meanwhile, two heavily armed security officers, Agents Goodwin, and Resnick, charged down the corridor toward the observation rooms. The grim joke at SCP-106's escape attempts was, "All you need to do is follow the screams," and that night proved it. Awful things were happening to the observation personnel. They were screaming about it.
Of course, even with top-of-the-line firearms, there was little they could do to harm the rampaging old man. He seemed immune to all forms of physical damage. All they could hope to do was keep him distracted until the scientists and containment specialists could prepare to lure him back into his containment cell.
Goodwin surged forward while Resnick covered his six. Vigilance was key, as SCP-106 could attack from literally any angle—including above or below. Physical obstacles were irrelevant, and no cover was safe.
As they approached, they saw the burn mark on the observation room wall. SCP-106 was perpetually coated in thick, black mucus with corrosive properties that left any surface it touched permanently marked. The scientists speculated that this mucus was a pre-digestive substance, tenderizing meat and bone alike. But for what purpose, no one knew, as the old man had never been observed eating. It's postulated that the only purpose is to cause additional pain.
Goodwin and Resnick knew to treat this hissing sludge as a threat, as its corrosive properties could remain active for up to six hours. They shared a grim nod before Goodwin breached the observation room door with a hard kick. The two of them surged inside, guns at the ready.
In their time working at the Foundation, they'd seen some truly horrific sights—from the mutilation of D-Class personnel, typically death row inmates used as SCP guinea pigs, to the chaos of containment breaches. But nothing in their past could have prepared them for the nightmare they saw that night.
All three observers were dead. Almost nothing remained of two of them, and the third, while still intact, no longer looked human. The kid somehow looked like he'd been dead a hundred years in the brief period the old man had been free. His skin was gray and completely dried out, his mouth locked in a perpetual scream. It was a massacre, but there was no sign of the old man.
Goodwin grabbed his radio and whispered, "This is Goodwin in observation room six requesting immediate backup. We have no idea where this thing is," but his sentence was cut short by a sudden scream from Agent Resnick. SCP Foundation security officers are as tough as nails—the best of the best, you might say. So hearing one of them scream in fright is a rare, if not impossible, occurrence. Yet even they were forced to yell out in terror when they looked up and saw the old man grinning down at them from the ceiling.
Resnick raised his M4 and fired a three-round burst at center mass. SCP-106 didn't care. Even under sustained gunfire, it didn't flinch. The old man simply reached down and snatched Resnick from the ground like he was picking an apple from a tree. He held Resnick in one hand and pummeled his body with the other, breaking all of his bones. Resnick screamed for his partner to help him, but there was no time.
Before Goodwin could act, SCP-106 began receding into another slimy burn mark on the wall, taking his screaming victim with him. Agent Resnick let out one last, horrified scream before being pulled into the inky darkness, leaving the room silent except for the hissing of the corrosive goo.
You might think this would be the end, but no. For poor Agent Resnick, the worst was yet to come. He was being dragged into what SCP Foundation scientists refer to as the Old Man's Pocket Dimension—a miniature layer of reality within our own where the malicious SCP is essentially a god. According to witness reports from victims taken to this nightmarish realm, the dimension resembles endless twisting corridors where the old man tortures his victims to the brink of madness, manipulating space and time to his sadistic whims. Occasionally, he releases his victims just for the joy of hunting, capturing, and torturing them all over again.
While Agent Resnick was discovering the true meaning of terror, containment specialists were mobilizing, preparing the one known method to lure the old man back: tempting him with the prospect of causing even more suffering. They took a Class D personnel and began inducing extreme pain by breaking bones or slicing tendons every 20 minutes. The agonizing screams were broadcast over the facility's intercom, acting as bait for the pain-loving old man.
The screams echoed through the facility's otherwise silent halls as the mutilated corpse of Agent Resnick fell from a new scorch mark on the ceiling. The old man could hear the sounds of suffering and barely contained his excitement at the prospect of a new plaything. The snapped femurs, the torn tendons—what's not to love?
Having had his twisted fun with the security officers and observers, SCP-106 wandered
back to its containment cell, where a new screaming victim awaited. The other security officers, containment specialists, and scientists hastily evacuated the area, leaving the old man alone with his latest plaything.
While the unfortunate Class D was left to his grisly fate, the remaining staff began the grim task of cleanup. This mostly involved mopping up the brown and black mucus from the walls, a job so unpleasant it could qualify as its own form of torture. It's a job that requires a special kind of fortitude—or a lack of imagination.
It would likely be at least another month before the old man decided to spice things up again. In the meantime, new personnel would be transferred in to replace the fallen. After all, at the SCP Foundation, this is just another night of work. It's a place where nightmares are a routine inconvenience, and the only thing that changes is the name on the casualty report.
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Item #: SCP-106
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures:
REVISION 11-8
No physical interaction with SCP-106 is allowed at any time. All physical interaction must be approved by no less than a two-thirds vote from O5-Command. Any such interaction must be undertaken in AR-II maximum security sites, after a general non-essential staff evacuation. All staff (Research, Security, Class D, etc.) are to remain at least sixty meters away from the containment cell at all times, except in the event of breach events.
SCP-106 is to be contained in a sealed container, comprised of lead-lined steel. The container will be sealed within forty layers of identical material, each layer separated by no less than 36cm of empty space. Support struts between layers are to be randomly spaced. Container is to remain suspended no less than 60cm from any surface by ELO-IID electromagnetic supports.
Secondary containment area is to be comprised of sixteen spherical "cells", each filled with various fluids and a random assembly of surfaces and supports. Secondary containment is to be fitted with light systems, capable of flooding the entire assembly with no less than 80,000 lumens of light instantly with no direct human involvement. Both containment areas are to remain under 24 hour surveillance.
Any corrosion observed on any containment cell surfaces, staff members, or other site locations within two hundred meters of SCP-106 are to be reported to Site Security immediately. Any objects or personnel lost to SCP-106 are to be deemed missing/KIA. No recovery attempts are to be made under any circumstances.
Note: Continued research and observation have shown that, when faced with highly complex/random assemblies of structures, SCP-106 can be "confused", showing a marked delay on entry and exit from said structure. SCP-106 has also shown an aversion to direct, sudden light. This is not manifested in any form of physical damage, but a rapid exit in to the "pocket dimension" generated on solid surfaces.
These observations, along with those of lead-aversion and liquid confusion, have reduced the general escape incidents by 43%. The "primary" cells have also been effective in recovery incidents requiring Recall Protocol ██ -███ -█. Observation is ongoing.
Description: 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 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 10-25 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 SCP-106. This effect is particularly detrimental to living tissues, and is assumed to be a "pre-digestion" 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 (examples: "entering" the inner wall of a room, and "exiting" the outer wall. Entering a wall, and exiting from the ceiling). It is unknown if this is the point of origin for SCP-106, or a simple "lair" created by SCP-106.
Limited observation of this "pocket dimension" has shown it to be comprised mostly of halls and rooms, with [DATA EXPUNGED] entry. This activity can continue for days, with some subjected individuals being released for the express purpose of hunting, recapture, [DATA EXPUNGED].
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