The esteemed doctor Thomas Morstead entered
the cell of the anomaly.
He’d been warned and even chastised by his
colleagues, but who in the foundation could
tell him what to do?
He was the best at what he did, maybe the
greatest in the whole history of the foundation.
As he entered the room, SCP-049 bid him welcome,
cordial as always, so polite in fact that
you’d never guess you were talking to a
killer.
Doctor Morstead knew the truth of what he
was dealing with, but he also believed he
could get through to 049, calm him, exorcise
the devil from him.
It was the meeting of two great minds, one
of them human, one of them part-human, part...
something that has never been clear.
It was to be a battle of wits, and like so
many great battles, this one would turn into
a massacre.
Before we get to that fateful meeting, there
are some things you should know about the
anomaly known as SCP-049.
If you saw him in the street the first thing
you’d think of is “plague”, because
049 always looked the same - a man dressed
in black robes with a plague doctor’s mask.
But this wasn’t a costume that could be
taken off.
In fact it wasn’t a costume at all.
It was him… the robes had grown out of him
like an exoskeleton, that horrible mask with
the pointed nose wasn’t covering his face,
it was his face, a kind of shell that had
seemingly sprouted from bone.
The first reports came during World War Two.
In a picturesque town in the south of France
called Montauban, people had begun going missing.
Children disappeared from their beds in the
middle of the night and weren’t seen again;
adults went to the market and never returned.
Local authorities searched high and low; they
scoured nearby woods and dragged the rivers,
but nothing was found.
Because what was happening wasn’t criminal,
there was no clue they could stumble upon
or eye witness who would break the case.
No, this was something else, something that
the townsfolk could never understand.
Word spread, and that’s when a search and
discovery team was sent from The Foundation.
It was a cold, dark night in January of 1941
when the team found what they were looking
for.
They walked through the open door of a small
house located not too far from the grand Château
de Richelieu, to find a masked man sitting
next to an open fire.
And he wasn’t alone.
The floor around him looked like it was moving.
Upon closer inspection the team saw that the
floor was covered with writhing, grasping
bodies.
Its patients as it called them.
“Bienvenue chez moi,” said the thing,
“Welcome to my home.”
Those so-called patients crawled towards the
team, intent it seemed to cause harm.
The hostiles, now known as SCP-049-2s, were
deemed dangerous and had to be eliminated.
A sight, it seemed, that didn’t bother 049
in the slightest.
It just sat there, occasionally looking up
from writing notes in a leather-bound book
as his patients were gunned down.
Once the carnage ended it simply closed its
book, stood up, and allowed itself to be escorted
away.
And that’s the story of how 049 ended up
at the facility, becoming a guest of sorts
staying in a Standard Secure Humanoid Containment
Cell, Research Sector-02, Site-19.
The few that came into contact with 049, remarked
that it was a pleasure for them.
With its impeccable manners, vast knowledge
of medicine and human anatomy, sharp tongue
and stinging wit.
They almost became spellbound listening to
it, caught in the throes of its charms until,
with the simple touch of its hand, it would
drain the life from them.
That’s why SCP-049 was classified as a Euclid.
That’s why armed guards were always stationed
outside its cell.
It’s why doctors took great precautions
when in its presence.
And it’s why Doctor Morstead should have
known better.
Remember, when 049 was discovered in France
it willingly went with the team, like it was
happy it had been found; as if it had planned
its own capture.
When it arrived at the facility it didn’t
act like it was contained against its will,
it was like it was returning home.
Initial findings as to the biology of 049
were that it didn’t require any sustenance
at all, not even water.
It seemed content to be left alone with its
notebooks.
It did not object when it was asked if it
could share some of its notes and gladly handed
over its journals, but upon examination it
was discovered that they were written in a
language that no linguist or cryptologist
has so far been able to translate.
It’s apparent that 049 derives much satisfaction
from seeing so-called experts struggle over
its text.
Unable to read those notes, a long line of
doctors visited 049 in its cell, each fascinated
by what they beheld.
It was learned that it has traveled the globe.
It speaks many languages, but prefers to speak
what it calls “le langage de l'amour”
- French.
It asked for only one thing, warm-blooded
animals.
The facility agreed to supply 049 with various
kinds, including rabbits, cattle, and even
an ape on one occasion.
Just like with humans, it could kill the animals
with a mere touch of its hand, sucking the
life right out of them.
But that wasn’t even the most incredible
part.
Soon those animals would rise again, as if
reanimated by 049.
They would become, for all intents and purposes,
the living dead.
And they were hostile.
After several unfortunate incidents, they
were then taken from the cell the moment they
arose and disposed of in the incinerator.
This was not to the liking of 049, who would
claim it had “cured” the animals.
For it, the world was sick…it saw plague
and pestilence everywhere and the meaning
of its existence was to rid the world of disease.
Humans, it said contained a virus, and had
to be cleansed.
In the first days after arriving at the facility,
049 didn’t seem to pose a threat to humans.
It was quite friendly in fact.
It seemed aware of the fear it caused in staff
and would often go out its way to make them
feel comfortable and safe.
This was a ruse, of course, or a “canard”
as 049 liked to say.
It had no intention to help humans.
No, it had come for humans.
It wasn’t trapped…it had set a trap.
One of the first people to truly upset 049
was Dr. Raymond Hamm, a well-respected physician
that had twice been a contender for the Nobel
Prize for his more mainstream work.
What had confused Dr. Hamm the most was not
049’s clothes-like exoskeleton, or even
his ability to reanimate the dead, but the
bag that it used.
049 was somehow able to pull a seemingly endless
supply of surgical tools from that bag.
Sometimes it would even pull out objects that
were somehow larger than the bag itself.
It was as if the bag connected to somewhere
else, and that’s what Dr. Hamm wanted to
talk about on that fateful day.
With 049 on one side of the cell and Dr. Hamm
on the other, he asked, “How is it that
you can produce a great quantity of tools
from that bag…I have observed you, and it
seems to me, that you are doing the impossible.”
“Dear doctor,” replied 049, “The Scourge!
The Great Dying, cannot be fought with a handful
of toys.
My bag is merely the product of my imagination,
it gives me what I require.
You dear sir, it seems, are limited by your
imagination.”
It stopped for a second or two and stared
at Dr. Hamm.
“I detect you are unwell,” it said, in
a voice not as amiable as before.
“It’s just a cold,” said the doctor.
“Ah, just a cold?
If you had seen what I have seen you would
not utter such insulting words.”
Dr. Hamm pulled out some papers from a briefcase
and approached 049, holding them close enough
so it could read them.
“You see,” said Doctor Hamm pointing to
the results on the paper, “Those animals
you say you cured, they were not diseased…they
were perfectly healthy before they died…and
your so-called cure, it turned them into something
quite terrible.
We found that if they were left alone, they
began to eat each other, and then themselves.”
049 did not respond and after a brief pause
said only, “A good day to you doctor, please
close the door on your way out.
You should get some rest.”
Hamm refused to go, and instead turned the
conversation to this real interest, the bag,
demanding that 049 let him see inside of it.
“Very well, doctor.”
049 said, “in private.”
049 began to pull a series of long metal poles
out of its bag followed by a rolled up curtain
that it hung between them, creating a kind
of medical tent around Doctor Hamm.
It seemed to stare for just a moment into
the observation camera outside of its cell
before whipping the curtains shut.
Doctor Hamm was discovered three hours later,
crawling around the floor of 049’s cell,
now another mindless undead.
When he was retrieved by security, 049 didn’t
even look up from his notebook.
Doctor Hamm didn’t get the incinerator treatment,
but he did receive a fatal dose of drugs.
A mercy.
A removal team was sent to 049’s cell, but
it said there was no need for special extraction
techniques.
It would go willingly, wherever they wanted
it to go.
It was not, it said, an enemy of the people.
“The Hippocratic Oath forbids me to hurt
a human being,” it said while walking to
the interrogation center.
“My only desire is to offer you my services
and expertise.”
The floors and walls of the interrogation
center room were painted a bright white.
Even the table was white, which contrasted
with 049, a mass of black, sitting in the
middle of the room.
During interrogation it refused to admit or
even accept that it had killed Dr. Hamm.
“I cured him, I removed the pestilence from
his body,” it said.
It was later asked if it regretted its actions,
to which it replied, “Well, good sir, one
always regrets the loss of a colleague for
any reason, but I stand by my actions.
The pestilence must be abated before it’s
too late.”
Every two weeks from that point 049 was given
animals.
The scientists at the facility observed it
time and again, touching the animals, killing
them, before producing a saw or scalpel and
opening them up.
Organs would be carefully removed with perfect
precision.
It was astounding to even trained surgeons
just how talented 049 was.
“I require a close relative of yours,”
said 049 one day to a young doctor, who expressed
shock that it was asking for one of the do
ctor’s family members.
“I mean a great ape,” said 049, “not
your dear aunt.”
There were several instances of 049 displaying
a crude sense of humor.
Staff would almost forget that the thing they
were talking to wasn’t human… almost.
And it was Doctor Thomas Morstead that had
supplied the great apes, orangutans in fact,
that had been rescued from the rainforests
of Borneo only to be taken to 049’s cell.
Then one day something changed.
049 told Doctor Morstead that its work was
done, that it had accomplished what it had
wanted to do, and could someone remove the
cured animal from its cell.
“I think you’ll find that it’s quite
the work of art.
A triumph,” 049 said through the intercom.
When the removal team entered the cell they
found the orangutan, or what was left of it.
It was lying in the corner of the cell, the
top of its skull had been removed leaving
its brain exposed.
On its face was an expression of relaxation
and from its mouth it issued very soft squeaks,
like that of an infant.
049 said, “Tell Doctor Morstead that it’s
rage mechanism no longer exists, I’ve removed
the amygdala and made some changes to the
hypothalamus and limbic system.
It is cured and quite harmless.”
The next day Doctor Morstead announced that
he wanted to visit 049’s cell himself, after
which he heard a chorus of disapproval from
his colleagues, all telling him that 049 was
now too dangerous.
“Dr. Hamm was sick,” replied Morstead,
“and 049 has assured us that he would never
take another human life.
He’s never lied to us and I’m going to
take him at his word.”
It appeared that 049 had created the perfect
specimen, so what was next?
Dr. Morstead had to know.
“Everyone is sick,” 049 told Doctor Morstead
after the two had talked for a couple of minutes.
“The great pandemic has started.
Fear not doctor, I have a cure, no longer
will you humans spread your disease.”
“I’m afraid you are wrong,” replied
the doctor, “This pandemic you speak of
does not exist.
We can happily live with our pathogens.
We have done so for millennia.”
Doctor Morstead became angry that he couldn’t
get through to 049.
“I’m afraid you are suffering from paranoia.
It is you who need to be cured”
“You have no idea,” said 049, standing
up.
“What are you doing?” shouted Morstead,
“you promised you wouldn’t hurt a human
again!”
“I’m not hurting you, I’m healing you”
049 said and leapt across the room in a flash,
placing a hand on the doctor’s head.
Morstead slumped to the ground.
They were being watched in the observation
room and this had gone too far.
He had to be moved to the containment cells,
permanently.
Mobile Task Force Epsilon-11 was right on
the scene and burst through the door.
“No imagination,” 049 said to himself,
“those humans have no imagination at all.”
It began walking towards the task force who
opened fire on the anomaly, but the bullets
bounced off its black coat and mask.
SCP-049 calmly touched each of the members
of the task force one by one draining the
life from them.
The last one standing stopped firing and attempted
to run but again 049 leapt across the room,
black cape billowing out behind him, and gently
touched the man causing him to drop to the
floor.
049 stepped over the bodies of the fallen
team and walked out of the confinement cell.
The full details of what happened next are
available only to The O5 Council, what are
sometimes called The Overseers.
The redacted report that is available reads:
Standard Secure Humanoid Containment Cell,
Research Sector-02, Site-19 – subject: SCP-049
Date of breach: REDACTED.
Euclid Class SCP-049 breached cell and subsequently
gained access to adjoining rooms and nearby
buildings.
Breach lasted approximately three days and
five hours.
Total Casualties: REDACTED with REDACTED number
of survivors requiring incineration therapy
Course of action: Department of Science - Alchemy
Division, suggested injecting anti-transmogrify
disinfectant into Class D former prisoners
who were transported to site and allowed to
come into contact with SCP-049.
SCP-049 failed to reanimate injected prisoners
and “cure” them.
SCP-049 acknowledged this failure and surrendered
to Mobile Task Force Alpha-1.
SCP-049 then requested to be contained.
Present containment under responsibility of:
REDACTED; REDACTED.
Present location of SCP-049: REDACTED.
End of report.
