The Cure | SCP-049

The door is open when the agents arrive. They stalk into the home and encounter three figures in the living room. One of them is alive. The other two are. No one knows what the other two are. The agents glance at each other with concern. They have seen many strange things in their career. But this might be one of the weirdest. The figures mutilated on the ground are a man and a woman who are sitting calmly in a pool of blood and what appears to be inner organs. There is a giant hole in the woman's chest, yet her eyes are open. The man's stomach is open and his intestines are falling out. But he too is sitting up and seemingly aware. One of the agents turns to vomit in the corner. I list this. Another agent whispers in horror. The third figure smiles. He has the body of a human wearing a thick robe. But the face of a medieval plague doctor with a long, beaked face and beady black eyes. The research shows that it is not a mask. He glances between the mutilated man and woman and to what journal in his hands. This is research. He replies calmly. I would show you my notes, but they are far too complicated for you. The agents simply nod. Slack jawed. I apologize for the next bit. But it is necessary for my research. Before the agents can comprehend what is happening, the doctor says something in a low voice that sounds like a different language. The man and woman shoot up from their seated positions and launch themselves at the agents. A few feet away, the man's intestines slip to the floor as he throws a punch at the nearest agent. The agent leans back and the punch barely grazes his jaw. The third agent grabs the man from behind and restrains his wrists. But with a horrifying pop, the man slides from his grip and turns to attack him instead. The doctor watches the scene like a television program, occasionally jotting notes down. When the first agent dispatches his gun and fires at the woman, sending her tumbling to the floor, he gives no reaction. Other than a simple. He calmly turns his attention towards the remaining man, but the first agent quickly shoots him as well. Nobody moves for a full minute. The agents stare at the bodies, waiting to see if they will rise again. The doctor frowns, but doesn't move towards the bodies or the door. He waits patiently for whatever will happen next. When an agent finally recovers his voice, he turns to the doctor and says, you'll have to come with us. The doctor raises an eyebrow, his beak pointed high in the air. And who are you? Let's just say we are an organization that is profoundly interested in your research. Oh, lovely. And are you willing to provide funding? The agent hesitates, his eyes lingering on the bloodied bodies at his feet. You'll have to discuss that with the higher ups. Excellent. Well, my work here is done. Lead the way. The agents hesitate. The doctor's compliance is even more unusual than the attack. They are accustomed to fighting back. But this, this is new. And somehow, even more terrifying. Nevertheless, the agents escort him to his new home, and each of them hopes to never see him again. Dr. Raymond Ham is in a rut. Life has been boring lately. A simple sequence of working, eating and sleeping. All of which he has been doing alone. But he has a date tonight, and this new project might be just the thing he needs to reignite his passion and get on track for a promotion. He has read all the files on the so-called Doctor, including the one detailing what the agents found at the house. He is horrified, of course. When he can't deny that the creature fascinates him, he is excited when he enters the interview room across from his subject for the first time. The X-rays have proven that his face is not a mask. Surprisingly, his robe is also a biological addition, having grown out of his body over time. Dr. Ham meets his eyes, and a shiver runs down his spine. The creature's eyes are cold and dark, like a deep pit with no bottom. Yet his voice is calm and amiable as they exchange pleasantries. Ah, a doctor. A like-minded individual no doubt. Wherein is your specialty, sir? Doctor Ham pauses, but only for a moment. Cryptobiology. Why? A medical man, such as myself, wanders abound, and here I worried I had been abducted by common street thugs. The creature's dead eyes scan the room with interest. This place, then, this is your laboratory. I had wandered as clean as it is, and with such little trace of the pestilence here. Dr. Ham's ears perk up, and he sits straighter in the metal chair, making sure the tape recorder is working. The pestilence? What do you mean? The scourge? The great dying? Come now. You know. The, uh... The creature extends along finger and taps his temple furiously. What is it they call it? The, the, uh... no matter. The pestilence, yes. It abounds outside these walls, you know. So many have succumbed, and many more will continue to, until such time as a perfect cure, can be developed. Helene's back in his chair, and gives a satisfied nod. Fortunately, I am very close. It is my duty in life to rid the world of it, you see. The cure to end all cures. Dr. Ham nods back, his hopes crashing to the floor. When you say, the great dying, are you talking about the bubonic plague? The room is silent for a moment, and Dr. Ham dreads the answer. He doesn't want a simple explanation. He wants a challenge. And he thought that this creature might be it, but perhaps not. The creature cocks his head. I don't know what that is. Dr. Ham blinks. Hope rising again. I see. Right. Well, the entities are agents encountered at that house. They were dead when you encountered them, yes. And you reanimated them? Hmm. A manner of speaking. You see things to simply, Dr.. Expand your horizons. Life and death. Sickness and health. These are amateur terms for amateur physicians. There is only one ailment that exists in the world of men, and that is the pestilence. And nothing else. Make no mistake. They were very ill, all of them. Another shiver runs down Dr. Ham's spine as he puts the pieces together. He considers asking for clarification regarding their deaths, but decides against it for now. You think you cure those people? He asks instead. Indeed. My cure is most effective. Dr. Ham's lips form a thin line as he remembers the pictures from the file, the unnatural cavities in the bodies, the blood all over their limbs and the floor. He had enough imagination to consider what they looked like reanimated, and the thought still haunts him. The things we recovered were not human. The creature's gaze cuts to Dr. Ham with a glare. Yes, well, it is not a perfect cure. But that will come with time, and further experimentation. I have spent a lifetime developing my methods, Dr. Ham, and will spend a lifetime more, if necessary. Now, we have wasted too much time. There is work to do. I will require a laboratory of my own, one where I can continue my research unimpeded, and assistance, of course, though I can provide those on my own in time. Dr. Ham shakes his head. I don't think our organization will be willing to. Nonsense! We are all men of science. That you coat, and show me to my quarters, Dr. The creature extends a pointed stick towards the door. Our work begins now! Dr. Ham remains in the interview room after the creature has gone. He can't shake the feeling of unease that hangs in the air and sticks to his skin. He looks over his notes again, confident that there is something to discover here. He can't decide if he is more frightened of the creature or fascinated by it. But what he does know is that passion is stirring within him again. And if he is lucky, he won't be sleeping alone tonight. Things were looking up for Dr. Raymond Ham. We've got a test subject for you. The creature sits up at his desk, as Dr. Ham leads someone into the containment cell, or as the creature calls it, is laboratory. It is a man wearing an orange jumpsuit stamped with a thick black label naming him, D85123. His real name is Benjamin Baker. But it's been years since anyone called him that. He has no idea what he is doing here, or what is about to happen to him. But he has a sinking feeling that it won't be good. Dr. Ham hesitates for a moment before closing the door, glancing between the prisoner and the creature with something like pity in his eyes. That doesn't bode well for Benjamin. The creature, however, is elated. The minute Dr. Ham leaves, he grabs a thick leather notebook and gestures for the prisoner to take a seat across from him. Tell me about yourself, young man, he says. Benjamin looks around the room while pondering his answer, partly as a stalling tactic, and partly to avoid looking at the hideous thing in front of him. The desk is littered with papers, some full of writing, others covered in crude drawings of human bodies and organs. In the corner lies a metal table with a doctor's bag lying beside it. He expects to see restraints on the table, but there are none. That provides a tiny measure of comfort, but the existence of the table at all makes Benjamin wearing. What? Are you? He asks, finally looking at the creature and taking in its black eyes and full beak. I am a doctor. Now, I believe I asked you a question first. It's only polite to answer. Benjamin nods, wanting to ask more, but afraid of the answers. What do you want to know? Let's begin with the basics. Hight, weight, age and birth date, please. The creature scribbles down Benjamin's information before asking about his medical history. Benjamin reluctantly tells him, and during the slight pause while the doctor is writing, he asks a question of his own. What do you want with me? All will become clear in time, don't worry. This answer has Benjamin even more worried. He absently twists his wedding band around his finger, needing its familiar comfort. He wills himself to relax, but his eyes keep traveling to the metal table. He never liked doctors, even as a child. And this thing in front of him is no ordinary doctor. When the creature finally seems satisfied with Benjamin's information, he rises from his chair and begins emptying the contents of the brown bag onto the table. Benjamin watches, signantly, is horror-growing with every tool that is revealed. Knives, scalples, a little hammer, a drill, large, sharp scissors. Each one lands on the table with a threatening clunk. Benjamin slowly rises from his chair and sneaks over to the door. He already knows it will be locked, but his heart sinks when he confirms it. Before he can turn around, the hair is rise on the back of his neck. The air seems to shift. The silence becomes overwhelming. Benjamin forces himself to turn. The creature, apparently finished unpacking his bag, lunges toward Benjamin and places a long finger to his throat. It is only a tap, only a second of skin against skin. But it is all that is needed. Benjamin feels his body shutting down. His organs failing. His breath, getting caught in his throat. He falls to the ground with the thud. His wedding ring banging against the lagnolium floor. The creature watches the scene calmly. He waits until the prisoner has gone completely still before checking his pulse. When he is satisfied, the man is dead. He hauls the body over to the examining table and strips him of his clothing. The creature is soon immersed in his work. If you want to save a few quid British gas have a way, you get half price leaky and it's called peak save. On every Sunday, it's the smart thing to do if you're regular folk or furry and blue. 11 till 4, let the good times begin. You could charge up the car or take the dryer for a spin. Half price electricity, what joy that brings with British gas peak save, we're taking care of things. TZC supply eligible tariffs and smart meat are required. Dr. Hem watches in horror as the creature cuts open the body and removes its organs. He looks away from the screen when the creature brings out the drill. He thought it was a good idea to provide a test subject. He thought it was integral to his research on the creature, but watching the prisoner die was harder than he expected. And now, seeing him brutally mutilated is making Braeman sick. He doesn't want to go through this again. He can imagine telling Stephanie about what he's done, casually mentioning the murder and experimentation he orchestrated and observed. He could see her big, blue eyes widening, her lips turning down and disgust. It is still the early days. He hasn't even fully explained his job yet. She would never understand this. And that's what he liked about her. She was kind and thoughtful and she cared about everyone. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of her. A cracking sound interrupts his thoughts. And before he can think better of it, he looks at the screen again. The body is flayed open like a fish. The creature is tampering with its bones now, ripping them apart from the flesh. Dr. Hamm gags and looks away again. No, he cannot tell Stephanie about this. The doctor is covered in blood and other fluids, but he doesn't care. He doesn't notice the instruments scattered around him or the intestines that are fallen to the floor. He only has eyes for his subject. The prisoner opens his eyes and sits up. He stumbles from the table and nearly falls over a chair. He doesn't seem to see the doctor or anything around him. His limbs are flailing as if he can't control them. But he's alive. The doctor smiles to himself, satisfied with another successful experiment. He reaches for his notebook and keeps a close eye on the prisoner as he jots down every movement. Interesting. He mutters. Interesting. The door suddenly slams open and two security personnel enter the room. The doctor is impressed with their excellent timing. He mutters to the prisoner and the flailing limbs stumble towards them. But they are prepared for this. They whip out their guns and shoot in seconds. The body falls to the floor dead for good. The doctor simply nods. He's over. One of them says as he re-hosts his gun. Thank you, gentlemen. I do believe that went quite well. If you would be so kind as to lead me back to my room, I would be most pleased. The security men are all too eager to leave the room full of gore and this stench of death and madness. Dr. Ham sits across from the creature in the interview room, unsure of how to begin. The creature tilts his head, looking more like a bird than ever. Dr. Ham clears his throat and begins. We've watched you work for several weeks now and honestly, I'm not sure I understand what you're doing. Can you describe your process in detail? Raymond isn't sure he really wants to know, not after what he's seen, but he must know. It's his job to find out, but the creature isn't going to make it easy. He laughs, light and mocking. Oh goodness no. The process is most intensive. As I said to your assistant, the best instruction you will find about my methods are here in my journals. As I have kept exhaustive records of my work there. Dr. Ham Browns. I see. My concern, doctor, is that we still don't understand what you're seeking to cure or how it manifests or how turning these creatures into quasi-living, mindless drones helps in that effort. Dr. Ham expected to know more by now. He has seen the creature experiment on a human, a goat, an orangutan, and a bovine with varying degrees of success. But Dr. Ham is still clueless about what exactly the creature is up to. You do not understand the pestilence? Even after all this time? Dr. it is an unspeakable horror. One that has shown its true face many times before, and will again. I find myself blessed with the wisdom and good senses needed to root it out and destroy it. But many like yourself cannot. It is a cruel judgment, I fear. To be at the mercy of a disease you cannot fully comprehend. This doesn't answer Dr. Ham's question, and he says so. But the creature is becoming agitated. He stirs in his seat and pounds his hand on the table as he tries to explain his work. You and your colleagues are like so many others. Unable to look past minor setbacks to see the salvation taking place before your very eyes. Do you want to remove rotten timbers until the hall collapses on top of you? No, you find them and pull them out and replace them with those untouched by rot. And most of all, you do not simply mock the structure because it now looks different to you. It is strong, it is free of disease. Dr. Ham nods, but he doesn't understand. He watched the creature reanimate the orangutan four times, mutilating its body beyond recognition until he could no longer bring it back to life. He stood back while the creature infused the bovine with mysterious dark liquids that he called essences of the humors, before adjusting its organs and reorienting its head and limbs. The corpse says that the creature leaves behind can barely be called bodies anymore. Yet, the creature is insistent about his work, adamant that he is getting somewhere. Dr. Ham apologizes and asks if there is anything else he can do. The creature pauses and looks away. No, that will be all. Another test subject on the usual schedule. You know my preference of subjects with more human anatomies. Dr. Ham nods, knowing full well that the creature desires to work on humans again. But he must be satisfied with animals for now. Raymond will not subject another human to this monster's experiments again. Despite his lack of progress regarding the creature, Raymond is finally feeling fulfilled. He continues spending his days watching horrific experiments and his nights on spectacular dates with Stephanie. He is growing increasingly frustrated with his research, but his time with Stephanie makes up for it. A few months in, Dr. Raymond Ham is in love. And, as far as he can tell, Stephanie loves him back. He is no closer to finding out what the pestilence is or how the creature intends to cure it. But none of that really matters when he is in love. Still, work must go on. The next time Dr. Ham interviews the creature, half his mind is on Stephanie. The way she laughs, the way she talks, the way she touches him like no other. As he sits down, the creature cocks his head in confusion. He speaks first this time. Dr. Ham, are you feeling alright? Of course. Now, I was wondering if you could explain. You don't seem well, Raymond Frowns. I'm fine. Never better, actually. But as Dr. Ham continues asking questions, the creature stares at him with his beady black eyes. He interrupts him to ask, as something happened. What do you mean? You're different. Different how? Dr. Ham's voice is curt. He is getting annoyed now, but the creature won't let this go. There is a sparkle in your eyes, a spring to your step. The creature's voice slows, as he seems to realize something. Dr. Ham can see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in his brain. But he fails to see the picture they create, until it is too late. The best of lengths. The creature whispers, as he lunges across the table, and lands a bony hand on Dr. Ham's arm. Raymond jumps away, but the damage has been done. His body shuts down, and he slumps to the floor. His last thought is of Stephanie, as his vision dissolves. The creature is excited to have a human corpse again. He thought someone would have tried to stop him by now, but no one seems to be coming. He didn't want to kill the good doctor, another man of science. But he had no choice. When he sees the symptoms of the pestilence, he must act fast, lest it spread. He no longer thinks of the body before him as Dr. Raymond Ham. He will become him again. But for now, he is simply a body. The creature is not a psychopath, nearly a scientist. He does not associate compassion with the heart in his hands. Not personality with the head he removes from the body. He works on specimens, not humans. But his work makes them human again. And the more he works, the closer he gets to finding the cure. He is closer now than he has ever been. He can already picture his success, a world without the pestilence. His ultimate goal will be fulfilled. He smiles to himself as he soes flesh back together, wiping away the blood that stains his hands. Maybe this time will be it. The creature sits back to examine his work, part, hammering in his chest. At first, nothing happens. Then, a hand twitches. The legs begin to move. And Dr. Raymond Ham opens his eyes. SCP-49 is a humanoid entity resembling a medieval plague doctor, standing about 1.9 meters tall, whose robe and mask appear to be organic extensions of its body. Though X-rays reveal a humanoid skeleton beneath. It is intelligent, capable of speaking multiple languages, and usually behaves politely toward foundation staff. But becomes hostile when it senses what it calls the pestilence. An unknown condition it believes is widespread and urgent. When encountering individuals, it deems infected. SCP-49 will attempt to kill them through direct touch, instantly halting all biological functions by an unexplained means. Afterward, it often performs crude surgical procedures using tools from a black doctor's bag, expressing frustration that its actions have not eliminated the pestilence. These procedures sometimes reanimate the corpse into instances of SCP-49-2. Mindless, altered humanoids with minimal motor function that can become aggressive when provoked or commanded. Boom SCP-49 insists have been cured.