SCP-4000 [W.I.P]

          How odd... How very odd... How does it work? I can't help but ponder, how odd it is, that they claim to have the cure, yet they produce none. Simple mixtures, yes, that is what they create. They have the 'capability' of altering one's state of well-being, yet they are merely children playing with water and soap, feeling triumphant over the fact that they made bubbles form. It makes me laugh. Luckily for them, they have a real professional on their side. But, as a small child fears a vaccination, they fear me. I help them, yet they are frightened, as they do not understand the method to my madness. Madness? Oh, no, not madness...



         I work quickly. Seven chemicals line the shelf. My patient lies on the gurney, held down with leather straps. He struggles furiously against the restraints that bind him, but to no avail. He's very loud. "Please, let me go! What are you planning to do with me?! You crazy, sick bitch!"
         "Be quiet... I need to concentrate." I reply softly. But the man seems fixed on creating as much noise as possible. Faster than his slow eyes can follow, I grab a vile off of the nearby shelf, full of an oily, lilac colored liquid. I fill a large syringe with it, attaching a needle to the tip. I turn to face him. His eyes widen, and his screams become louder and more urgent. I walk over to him, my black cloak swishing at my ankles, my boots making a steady thud, thud, thud. Soon I am at his side. I raise a finger to my lips underneath my mask. "Shhhhh..."
         The man's opened even wider, his horrified gaze meeting mine. Although the mask and the hood definitely make my face dark and difficult to make out, every one of my patients always notice one thing. My eyes. The iris is pure black, with streaks of violet. I use my eyes as an advantage over my patient's fear, for most of them are too fixated to notice the needle in my hand until it has touched their flesh. I hold my gaze, as my needle makes toward a vein on his neck. He must not move. I position the needle right over it, then I inject the liquid into his neck. He starts, but its too late for him to fight it. I step back, watching as his movements become more sluggish and slow, and his eyes become dilated and glossy. Its not long before he is asleep. No more noise for me. I return to the countertop, taking the first chemical, a beaker of a lumpy magenta liquid, and pour it into a florence flask, heating it up until it smooths over and turns red. Then, I grab a flask of a watery, maroon chemical, which is extremely acidic when it makes contact with exposed flesh. I mix it in with the red liquid, and it starts to fizz, small air pockets clinging to the side of the class. Frowning, I use a glass stir rod to cause the bubbles to disperse and rise to the surface, watching with satisfaction as the mixture creates a lovely pink hue, pour it all into a new syringe. I approach the unconscious patient, stare at him for a moment, and then inject the Cure right into the man's left temple. Immediately, his eyes snap open. I stare into them. Like a drop of ink in a glass of water, his eyes cloud over with black mist. His flesh starts to turn blue, the skin becoming dry and flaky, like that of a leaf in the Autumn. The effect spreads rapidly, but then it slows to a stop. I frown. Mabey the dosage was too small...
         Suddenly, My thoughts were rudely interrupted by a masculine voice behind me. "FREEZE! THIS IS THE SCP FOUNDATION MOBILE TASK FORCE! FOR THE SAFETY OF HUMANITY, YOU ARE TO BE CONTAINED AND SECURED! NOW DROP THE NEEDLE, AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!!" I turn around, smiling at the ten men clad in black protective gear and donning machine guns. I can sense the disease in each one of them, but those guns are enough to make me comply. Two of the men approach my patient, whom I realize with a pang of guilt is not fully cured. I failed with this one. Oh, well. Five of the remaining seven guards approach me, their guns pointed directly at my head and my torso. They surround me, roughly forcing a pair of handcuffs around my wrists. I start to stand, yet one of the taller voices growls at me to get down. To my dismay and annoyance, they attach an additional restraint around my neck. I am led up the stairs of the abandoned basement in the hospital, and forced into a van with an insignia labeled SCP- Secure. Contain. Protect.. About three vans wait, five guards climb into one van, while I am shoved into the largest one. Its dark. I can't see a thing.

Dr. Katashi Akiyama

         

As I stride down the hall, my shorter companion, Dr. Hanae Suzuki, struggles to keep up. "W-wait up..." She pants. Sighing, I slow my pace down a bit. "Why are you in such a big hurry?" She inquires. "Hanae, I told you, I've been studying 049 for years, and suddenly, a very similar one shows up? I wouldn't miss it for the world!" I tell her. We turn a corner, and we're there. Just in time. I swipe my Lever 4 keycard into the slot. The door opens, and I step into the small, white viewing platform. Hanae plops down in a chair beside mine, which was located behind the cell microphone. Looking through the one-way mirror, I spot a sight that sends excited chills up my spine. Hanae shivers. "She's defiantly not a welcoming sight..."
         The cell, which is no bigger than ten feet across on all sides, is illuminated by a single large LED light. In the middle of the cell sits a hooded figure wearing a black cloak and an ivory plague doctor's mask. Underneath the mask, it's lips and it's skin were almost as white as the mask. Long, shiny black hair peeked out through it's hood in the front, running down it's shoulders, reaching all the way down to it's waist. But the most notable thing about this creature was the eyes. The irises were completely black, contrasting with the whites of the eyes, with a few lines of purplish violet. I couldn't look away. Suddenly, it's eyes locked on mine. I don't know if it could really see me through the one-way window, but I could not avert my gaze. I could see the streaks in her eyes moving around in swirling patterns, changing in shape, length, and size. Hanae nudged me, and I found myself ripping my attention back to reality.
         Clearing my throat, I picked up the file I had been given when I was told of the creature's arrival. I opened it up.

SCP-4000 | OBJECT CLASS: Euclid

         SCP-4000 is to be contained in a secure holding cell. SCP-4000 is not to be removed from it's cell unless approved by a Level Four or higher personnel. At such times SCP-4000 is to be accompanied by five armed guards and guided by an iron collar while in transit. Any experiments performed on SCP-4000 are to be conducted inside of specifically prepared rooms. SCP-4000’s cell should be monitored at all times via security camera. Should any abnormal behavior occur, Doctor Akiyama is to be alerted at once. SCP-4000 is humanoid in appearance standing at 4 feet 8 inches, weighing in at 75 pounds, appearing to be a Caucasian 13-year-old female; however, the Foundation is currently incapable of studying it's face and body more fully, as it is covered in what appears to be the garb of the traditional “Plague Doctor” from 15-16th century Europe. SCP-4000's most notable characteristic is it's eyes, the iris black, with purple-colored streaks that move constantly around the eye. Any direct viewing of SCP-4000's eyes will result in paralyzing fear, making it easy for SCP-4000 to disable it's victims. SCP-4000 is sentient, and can speak and understand all languages. SCP-4000's mannerism's of speech are often polite and articulate, showing a high vocabulary and IQ for any normal adolescences. SCP-4000 was recovered without incident in the basement of Ibaraki Hospital, in Japan. SCP-4000 was apparently trying to "cure" an unidentified man, but was unable to complete the experiment, due to MTF interference. SCP-4440 claims to not have any knowledge of SCP-049, but has expressed interest in meeting SCP-049. SCP-4000 is capable of creating chemicals, most of which are made up of unidentified substances, that vary from solids, liquids, and gasses. SCP-4000 claims to use these various substance to help cure and treat the infected, but further questioning has been postponed, due to a Containment Breach involving SCP-682.

         I put down the file, knowing all that I needed to know. I nodded to Hanae, who pressed a button on the control panel, allowing me to speak to the creature via microphone. "SCP-4000, I am Dr. Akiyama and I will be-"
         "I know who you are," a soft, melodic voice answered. I paused, startled at the voice. It was soft and sleepy, yet not uncaring. It was almost... soothing in a way...
         I cleared my throat. "You do?"
"Yes. I know all about you, Doctor Katashi Akiyama."
         I paused, uncertain, but Hanae nodded for me to go on. I cleared my throat again and continued with the first question. "What is your name?"
         The creature seemed to hesitate, before answering. "SCP-4000," she replied dully.
         "No, you're actual name, before your capture."
         "I have no given name. I prefer... 'Doctor'."
         "Okay, Doctor... what's this 'disease' you keep referring to? the Bubonic Plague?"
         "No. It is the disease that you call 'fear'. It infects almost every single being on this planet. My job is to rid the world of it."
         "I see... and who assigned you to this... 'job' or yours?"
         "Who assigned you to your job, Doctor?"
         I paused, confused. Is this thing trying to mess with me? "Err... that is none of your concern. Answer my question. Who assigned you to your-"
         "That is none of your concern," The thing said. I paused, frustrated. I sighed, shaking my head. "Moving on. How does your 'cure' work? After all, it seems to me like all of your victims end up dead in some way."
         The creature abruptly bangs one of it's fists on the table, seemingly agitated. "Dammit, you all ask the same question! You will never be able to understand the Cure! You might as well just let me help everyone instead of locking me up in this... this... prison! These poor people are my PATIENTS, not VICTIMS!" The creature's voice shook with anger, it's fists trembling. It's voice had the same tone, just more... loud, violent... I found myself shaking slightly, and Hanae breathed damn... under her breath. "Alright," I say, "We need you to calm down, and just answer the questions. Do you need a moment to compose yourself?"
         SCP-4000 took a deep breath, before it replied: "Continue."
         I looked back down at the clipboard. "Uh... why do you think that fear is a disease? Isn't everybody afraid of something?"
         SCP-4000 just laughed, and shook it's head. "My good doctor... fear is not an emotion, like most people would have you think. Fear... fear is the one thing keeping people from having a sense of true happiness."
         "Okay..." I reply, unsure of the vague answer. "Next question... how old are you?"
         "I've been around as long as humans have walked on this Earth," SCP-4000 said simply.
         "But you don't look much older than thirteen... are you immortal?"
         "Immortal?" It asked with a hint of amusement in it's voice. It seemed to find the concept ridiculous. "Now tell me, Doctor, do you know of anything that is truly immortal?"
         "With a job like mine, you'd be surprised."
         "Well, as long as the disease is still around, I will remain here to cure and diminish it, until nothing remains to plague the human race."
         "Oh. Well, that's not gonna happen anytime soon."
         "Trust me, Doctor, one day, I will be able to walk out of this place. It won't be here forever, after all."
         "Do you have any desire to escape the Foundation?"
         4000 hesitated, and I leaned back in my chair. Soon it answered:
         "I do not wish to be contained, but I will not forcibly attempt to leave. But... if the door were to somehow open on it's own... do not trust me to stay put for long."
         "If you were to be released from containment, what would you do?"
         "Exactly what you found me doing. Experimenting. Curing. Saving mankind."
         "I see. Okay, so are you able to take your mask off?"
         "No."
         I waited for it to continue speaking, but it sat there, silent. I cleared my throat. "Care to explain?"
         "If I were to take off my mask... I would be vulnerable to Fear. Besides, the mask is a part of me. No matter how hard one pulled on it... it would just pull back harder."
         Hanae scribbled this down in a notebook. She looked up at me, and nodded. I turned back to SCP-4000. "Earlier, you mentioned that the mask was a 'part of you'. Do you mean to say that the mask is a part of your physical structure... or are you speaking symbolically?"
         "It is not a part of my flesh, no, it is part of me like a child is a part of it's mother."
         "Oh. Moving on... back when the Foundation discovered you, we found the victim that had been severely disfigured with a chemical you used. We brought the chemicals to the lab, but could not identify most of the substances. We tested the effects on Class-D Personnel, and the results were... unnatural... ranging from intestinal liquefaction, rotting of the flesh, inflammation of vital organs, just to name a few. These substances are unidentifiable, and highly hazardous. How did you acquire these substances?"
         No response. Frustrated, I asked again, but I got the same answer. Nothing. I tried the next question. "Okay, 4000, this is our final question. What are your thoughts about the SCP Foundation?"
         "I think..." it began "I think that the intentions behind it are good. But the execution is poor. They wish to 'secure and contain' objects that cannot be understood, in order to "protect" humanity from it. Humans tend to fear things that they do not fully understand. Take me, for example. You try to protect the world from me, even though the consequences of doing such are dreadful. You would not have to contain anything if there was no reason to. Well, except for the deadly anomalies..."
         Like you... I thought. "Thank you, that will be all."
         As I waited for Hanae to gather up her notes, I thought about what SCP-4000 had said. It saw fear as a disease. Obviously, it can't be afraid of anything. So... does it have feelings? It obviously has some form of emotions... it expressed frustration. Is it afraid that it won't be able to "cure" every person? No... it seemed pretty obvious that was confident that it would be able to eventually. I stared at the clipboard with it's description, trying to make sense of 4000's nature. Suddenly, Hanae nudged me, ripping my attention away from my contemplation. "Sorry..." I muttered, following her out the door into the hall. Hanae snickered. "It's just like 049. Only younger, and the opposite gender." I looked down at her. Standing short and plump with caramel skin, she has an energetic, charismatic feel about her. She has alert, large pale grey eyes and a round jaw. Her short, curly, light brown hair is messily styled. Her clothing is poorly-fitting and scruffy. A particularly noticeable feature is her accent which people usually find annoying. I find her accent to be kind of cute. Not that I've ever thought of Hanae romantically... I've given up on love a long time ago. But she's an amazing friend, and I'm lucky to have her working with me.

SCP-4000

         

         I sit in the corner of my cell, my chin resting on my knees. It's been awhile since they've allowed my to operate on a victim of the disease. This time, I learned from my previous mistake, and I administered a bigger dosage. This particular mixture caused the patient's skin to turn rough and scaly, turning a sunburnt shade of red. He jerked and twisted, and foamed. When the guards came in to take him away, he viciously attacked them, attempting to claw their eyes out.
Sadly, he was shot in the head, ending his fearless attack. Despite his death, I was pleased that it was a success. I had eliminated his fear. Now, I sit here, bored out of my mind.
         Suddenly, I hear the door open. What I see is interesting. Another doctor. He is led in by an iron collar, then released and the door quickly shuts.
         I look up at him. He looks back. He is much taller, and underneath his mask I can see yellow eyes and pale grey skin. He speaks first. "Hello..." His voice is soft and deep, with a British accent. "Hello." I reply.
         We stare at each other for a long time. Then, I say, "Why are you here?"
         "Because I was brought here."
         "I can see that..." I said, slightly frustrated. The door opened again, causing both me and the other doctor to turn. A scrawny, twitchy man stepped in nervously. He is wearing the same orange jump suit that my latest patient wore, labeled CLASS-D PERSONEL. The door slammed, again, causing the man to jump. The other doctor looked back at me. "Ah, another visitor. You must be quite popular. Wait... Oh my, yet another victim of the disease." He turned back to the man, who was backed up against the wall, shaking. "Don't be afraid... I am here to cure you." He stretched his hand out, walking toward the man. The man yelped, backing away further. I watched with curiosity. While my fingers itched to reach for my needle, I wanted to see what this new doctor would do. He approaches the trembling man, who cried out and trued to run the other way. The door wouldn't budge. Terrified, he turned back to the other doctor. The other doctor was right in front of him. He placed his hand on the man's forehead, who screamed and tried to push the hand away. But his struggle became more sluggish, and he slowed, arms dropping at his side, his body collapsing to the floor. I watched as the other doctor dragged him into the light, and pulled a scalpel out of his satchel, along with other medical tools. A particular item that caught my eye was a vile of black liquid. As the doctor operated on the man, I walked over and picked up the vile. "What's this?" I asked. "That is mine," he replied, taking the vile from he, dumping it's contents into the body of the patient. I watched with fascination as the doctor stitched him back up. He gathered his tools and stood, watching. After a moment, the man began to stir.