The Plague Doctor had seen a great deal of
death in his time. It was the very nature of the work he devoted
his life to. Patients were lost on the operating table
or taken from him, soldiers fell on the battlefield right before his eyes, even the simple touch
of his hand could stop a person's heart. He had watched the world outside turn to hell
as the sun destroyed every living thing that wandered into its beams of accursed light. But somehow, even after all that he had witnessed,
this latest loss weighed heavy on his heart. He hadn't known Fernand well, or worked with
him for very long, but he had offered comfort and support in a time when all seemed lost. The giant man had been steadfast, loyal, and
dedicated to the cause. So devoted, in fact, that he gave his very
life for it. It was Fernand's choice to go that way, to
roll the dice and risk his body for the sake of the Doctor's work. He knew that, and yet...the pain pressed down
on him like a dark ocean, uncharted waters that threatened to drown the Doctor in a grief
he had never felt before. He knew that the work was waiting, he could
hear the cries of the fleshy creatures oozing by outside, waiting to be cured of their ailment. Still, he could not pull himself out from
beneath the blanket of deep depression that weighed him down. All day, he would lie in his bed, a cot formerly
reserved for D-Class prisoners, staring up at the ceiling and feeling the minutes tick
by. Eventually it all began to blur together,
with no need to eat, drink, or even sleep, there was nothing to break up the passage
of time. "Doctor?" The Plague Doctor lifted his head for the
first time in a long time at the sound of a voice coming from the doorway. There stood Lord Blackwood, the dapper gentleman
sea slug. His rhinophores twitched curiously as he slithered
into the room. "Hello my friend..." The Doctor sighed. "I say, I've been a bit worried about you
old chap!" Lord Blackwood said. "We haven't seen you in quite some time! Not since the untimely loss of our dear comrade
Fernand." "I confess I am finding it hard to carry on. Does it not seem hopeless? To continue the fight against the forces out
there? How could I be so arrogant, to think I could
do battle with the sun itself?" The Plague Doctor rested his head in his gloved
hands. "Balderdash!" Lord Blackwood shouted. The Doctor looked up at him, startled. "Forgive my outburst, old sport, but that
is the grief speaking through you. As intelligent men we must honor our feelings,
as they are parts of us, but they cannot be our rulers! As the great poet William Ernest Henley once
wrote: 'It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I
am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.'" "Stirring words, and yet..." The Doctor trailed off. "And yet what?!" Lord Blackwood seemed to swell with emotion. "We find ourselves in dire times, yes, but
what are we to do in the face of them? Roll over, show our bellies, and embrace defeat? Not I, sir! Never I. I don't believe you should either. Would Fernand have wanted you to let yourself
be lost this way?" The Plague Doctor sat with that thought for
a moment. Then, solemnly, he shook his head. "No, he wouldn't." "Then we shall rally! Pick yourself up, come with me, and in the
memory of our fallen friend we will sing a happy tune, as he would have! We mourn, we celebrate his life, and then,
as we always have, we do what needs to be done! Come with me, Doctor." The sea slug led the way, and, though he still
felt the call of the void tugging at his heels, the Doctor Followed. Dimly, he could hear Lord Blackwood ask, "Are
you familiar with the works of Gilbert and Sullivan?" The Plague Doctor was not, in fact, familiar
with them, so he could not join in as Lord Blackwood attempted to lead him in a chorus
of "I am the very model of a modern Major-General." Still, the sound of music, of any kind of
joyful noise, lifted his spirits just the same. The two spent several hours together, swapping
old stories, singing songs, and remembering Fernand, the lovable cannibal. At one point, Lord Blackwood brought out a
tankard of home-brewed ale he had been working on in one of the empty laboratories. It smelled strange, and tasted stranger, but
it was still nice to share a drink with a companion after so much hardship. Eventually, Lord Blackwood passed out, flopped
over on his side and snoring softly. The Doctor leaned against a wall nearby, resting
his eyes for the first time in many, many days. It wasn't happiness, not quite, but it was
a kind of peace, and a welcome reprieve from the torturous thoughts that had gripped him
as of late. But the peace did not last, as the Doctor
began to hear sounds from within the tunnel, the passage that led somewhere deep beneath
the Foundation Site. He could hear footsteps, muffled voices, creeping
ever closer. They did not sound like the fleshy monster
who had invaded the facility before, but he could not be certain if they were friend or
foe. He scrambled to his feet, prepared to defend
himself if necessary. "Lord Blackwood!" He hissed, attempting to rouse his sleeping
friend, but the slug continued to snooze away. If the need to retreat arose, he would have
to use something to scoop up the sleeping slug and carry him to safety. The Plague Doctor was just picking up a nearby
bucket when the first of his unexpected visitors emerged from the darkness. It appeared to be an ordinary human man, wrapped
in dark robes that covered his face. His arms were left bare, and glinted in the
low light. They appeared to be made of metal, though
the Doctor did not recognize the kind. He removed his robes to reveal a deeply tanned
face, black hair, and piercing blue eyes. There was an arcane symbol carved into the
man's forehead, just above the gaze that now fell on the Plague Doctor. A beat of silence passed between the two men,
before the Doctor finally spoke up. "Please, sir, identify yourself." The strange man stared at him curiously, not
quite knowing what to make of him. "My name is Cain. And who are you?" He asked. "I am a doctor," He answered simply. "How did you find this place?" "I had some help..." At this, Cain glanced over his shoulder, to
unseen companions waiting in the shadows. "It's safe here! You can come out!" As the Plague Doctor watched, three more figures
emerged from the tunnel. First, a man wearing a kind of light-blocking
HazMat suit. He removed the suit slowly, exposing blond
hair, green eyes, a tattered brightly-colored t-shirt, and cargo shorts. The man that followed just behind him was
wearing a similar suit, and removed it to reveal a lab coat and an unusual necklace
hanging around his neck. The final visitor was not a man at all, but
a large mass of slime. At first, the Plague Doctor felt a shock of
anxiety, but at a second glance, he recognized the slimy creature. It was SCP-999, the friendly being that often
roamed the halls of this very site! It cooed excitedly at the sight of the Doctor. Though it knew not to touch him, its pseudopods
wiggled in a gesture resembling a wave "hello." "Yes, hello, my friend!" The Plague Doctor smiled "But who are the
rest of you?" His eyes settled again on the amulet around
the third man's neck. He had seen it somewhere before... "Ah! Dr. Bright, I presume? I'm afraid I did not recognize you with this
new face." Dr. Bright grinned broadly. "Yep! It's me! A little apocalypse can't keep Dr. Bright
down. Good to see you again, Doctor. This is SCP-507." He gestured to the blond man. "You can call me Guy." He stuck out his hand to shake, but the Doctor
shook his head. "It would be best if I did not. But, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." "And you've already met SCP-073, Cain," Dr.
Bright nodded to the man with metal arms. "Of course, this little guy needs no introduction." He patted SCP-999, which wrapped its pseudopods
around his hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. "I had him with me at Site-17 for some cross-testing
when everything went to hell. Good thing, too. Never needed an emotional support slime more
in my life." "Dr. Bright was in a room near mine when the
alarms began to sound," Cain explained. "As soon as it became clear something truly
disastrous was happening, we retreated underground with as many supplies and survivors as we
could." "And where were you?" The Plague Doctor asked Guy. "I was out of town." Guy grinned at his own joke. "I popped into a forest dimension. Like the Amazon, but it went on forever. It was beautiful, but the mosquitos were the
size of my head, and I couldn't wait to get back. When I did, though...everyone was gone. Nothing but the alarm going off over and over
and over again. Luckily this guy," he patted Cain on the back,
"found me before those melty things outside did." "Ah, those who have succumbed to the sun sickness. I know them well." The Plague Doctor's face fell. "We lost a member of our party to them not
very long ago." "I'm sorry for your loss," Cain said, and
his face made it clear that he really meant it. "We have supplies, if you need them." He pulled a small cart from the tunnel. "Generators, food, clean water, weapons. We're happy to share in exchange for shelter
here." "I thought we agreed I was the leader?" Dr. Bright piped up. "There are no leaders in a time like this,
only survivors," Cain said solemnly. "But you got to walk at the front." Dr. Bright pouted. "Thank you. All of you." The Plague Doctor's heart swelled with gratitude
at the gesture, at the knowledge that there were still allies in this nightmarish world. "Doctor, are we having company?" Lord Blackwood awoke behind him. "Yes, my friend, it appears we are." The next few weeks passed comfortably, almost
joyfully, a far cry from the gray fog of sadness that had lingered in the aftermath of Fernand's
passing. SCP-999, Guy, Cain, and Dr. Bright brought
new life into the facility, lighting it up both figuratively and literally, with the
help of the generators they had brought. Dr. Bright had plans to set up additional
power sources, and devoted his time to experimenting with anomalous materials he had managed to
recover from storage. He also offered his services to the Plague
Doctor as a new assistant, someone to help him find a cure for the plague that raged
on outside their walls. Cain promised to make supply runs, insisting
that his metal limbs made him less vulnerable to the effects of the deadly light's beams. He still covered his skin with the thick robes
whenever he went outside, however. "I'm not sure if it would take me or not,
but that's not a chance I'm willing to take," He had said. Meanwhile, Guy entertained the group by reciting
the plots of his favorite movies, tv shows, and comics. He had joined Lord Blackwood as one of the
de facto storytellers of their new little band of survivors. Perhaps, the Plague Doctor thought, they would
find some kind of happiness here. Perhaps things really would be alright after
all. Meanwhile, out in the nightmarescape beneath
the transformed sun, a wicked mask was wandering the land in search of a new host. Its artificial body had begun to corrode,
to rust and decay beneath the torrent of black sludge always pouring from its mouth and eyes. Soon, it would not be able to pilot the structure
anymore, and would find itself trapped again, waiting for an unsuspecting person to come
along and put it on. In the current climate, the odds of a human
happening upon the mask were lower than ever, and, though it would never admit this out
loud, the mask was beginning to get a little bit nervous. Perhaps it should head back to the Site, try
to make nice with the Plague Doctor, and see if he would offer some assistance...? No, that would be pathetic. Seeking help from someone so low, so wretched. It would manage fine all on its own. Still, as its rickety mannequin legs creaked,
cracking and splitting apart with every step, the mask knew it had to move fast, and think
even faster. If only it could find a weapon, some kind
of leverage. It could return to the Site and force the
Doctor to become its next host. As the mask pondered its options, its gaze
fell on one of the fleshy beasts, oozing across the ground in search of more people to pull
into its molten embrace. The creatures ignored the mask for the most
part, knowing it was inorganic and impossible to convert. But, the mask suddenly thought, could it perhaps
convert one of them? Would its consciousness be strong enough to
override the hive mind the monsters all seemed to share? The mask had overcome the will of kings, of
heroes and villains alike. Surely it could take on one of these simple
lumps of goo. The flesh creature moved slowly, a little
bit at a time. It had all the time in the world, the mask
supposed. Or at least, it believed it did. As the mask snuck up behind the creature,
its expression changed from a frown to a nasty smile. It reached up toward itself, angling just
right. It would have to land perfectly for this to
work, but it knew it could stick the landing. Anywhere on the thing should work. After all, it didn't have a face. For this particular beast, time had run out,
and it was time for the mask to take its body for a spin. Then, it would pay a visit to its old nemesis... Back at the Site, the Plague Doctor was having
an intense discussion with Dr. Bright about all that each man had witnessed so far. Dr. Bright listened with fascination as the
Plague Doctor described his attempt to treat one of the infected humans, the invasion of
the massive flesh beast that had taken the human survivors right before his eyes, and
Fernand's noble sacrifice to save their shelter from destruction. Dr. Bright, in turn, told of his own trials:
the difficulty getting into the tunnels, the retrieval of Guy before he was lured outside
by the creatures, and his mission to rescue as much research as possible before setting
out to find a safe place to hide. Sadly, it seemed that the SCP Foundation knew
even less about how to counter the effects of the sun than the Plague Doctor did. Still, two heads were always better than one,
and an extra set of hands to help with the work would certainly speed the process along. For the first time since Fernand was lost,
the Doctor felt some kind of hope. "All we need to do now," the Plague Doctor
said, "is procure another test subject. This will, of course, be rather difficult,
as it is perilous to venture outside. Perhaps we could appoint some manner of...task
force?" Dr. Bright nodded. "We could try that. Cain's done pretty well going out there so
far, maybe he can bring us back something next time he goes out for supplies?" The Plague Doctor opened his mouth to agree,
but before he could say another word, he heard something knocking against the window. This particular window had been treated to
filter out the deadly light some time ago, seemingly by accident, when the Foundation
was making the glass resistant to other forms of attack. Through its tinted glass, the Doctor could
make out a strikingly familiar face: the porcelain mask with the permanent smile, staring in
at him. "Hello, Doctor." The mask laughed, black slime pouring from
its mouth with a gurgling sound. "Villain!" The Plague Doctor spat. "What do you want from me?" "Why must you assume I want something from
you? Perhaps I've just come by to pay you a friendly
visit." The mask's voice was smug, gloating. "Because you, sir, are no friend of mine." The Plague Doctor crossed his arms defensively. "Oh, you have guests, I see! Dr. Bright, I'm surprised you made it this
far." The Mask cackled at the sight of the man. "Should have known you'd make it. I've heard cockroaches can survive anything,"
Dr. Bright shot back. "Have you come here to trade verbal blows?" The Plague Doctor asked. "Or with a true purpose in mind?" "Why, Doctor, I came here to visit you. And to show you something wonderful." Though it was impossible, the mask's grin
seemed to widen. "What could you possibly have to show me?" The Plague Doctor was growing irritated, tired
of the mask's games. "My new body, of course. Silly me, you can't see it when I stand this
close. Let me just back away and give you a better
look..." With a horrible squelching sound, the mask's
face retreated from the window. Before the doctors could even stop to ask
one another what it might be, the terrifying answer was right in front of their faces. The mask was not piloting an ordinary bipedal
host, but rather had positioned itself somehow on the top of a massive mound of gelatinous
flesh. It was one of the enormous beasts that had
previously tried to invade through the tunnel, the amalgamation of dozens of melted people,
stuck together into a roving ball of molten skin, bone, and muscle. "Do you like it?" The mask asked. "I've been building it for days. It started small, you see, just one person-
though I could scarcely call it one anymore. So warped and pathetic. Sad. I could just cry." The mask flickered to a frowning face, just
for a moment, and then the smile was back. "But I won't. It was so easy to drop myself right onto the
thing, and before I knew it I had a lovely new vessel, so malleable, so indestructible,
and so very easy to expand. So simple to just..." It flexed one of its tentacles here. "Snatch up anything I see, pull it out into
the light, and let it become a part of me. Not that anything has a choice." "You're a monster!" Dr. Bright exclaimed. "Yes, isn't it marvelous?" The mask tossed its head back with a cackle. "And I haven't even told you the best part
yet. I'm not finished growing, you see. I need more, always more...and you two, and
whatever sad, silly little creatures you have in there with you, will make the perfect addition. I've been waiting for the opportune moment,
and I think now is a perfect time, don't you agree?" "You'll be waiting a long time." Dr. Bright said. "We will never go outside, devil!" The Plague Doctor added. "That is perfectly fine, gentleman. Perfectly fine. I'll just come to you." The mask leaned back, and, with all of its
might, threw its massive body against the wall with a crash. The building shook with the impact, rattling
from the blow. "Can it break through?" Dr. Bright asked, wide-eyed. "I'm afraid I cannot say for certain," The
Plague Doctor said solemnly. "These monsters...they are unlike anything
I have ever studied before." "Same," Dr. Bright grimaced. All the while, the mask continued its assault
on their hiding place. As it collided with the wall again and again,
the two doctors heard a sound that made their stomachs drop: the sound of something splintering
apart. It was working. The wall was beginning to give way. "Dr. Bright!" The Plague Doctor cried. "We must retreat. Do you know of a safe place to which we can
flee?" "I think I just might." Dr. Bright nodded. "Quickly, gather the others! We have no time to waste!" Dr. Bright and the Plague Doctor assembled
the rest of their ragtag group: Cain was engaged in a lengthy conversation with Guy while SCP-999
played with a wind-up toy car it had found. Lord Blackwood was brewing another batch of
his unusual ale. They were all shocked at the news of the sudden
invasion, but as fast as they could, they gathered their supplies, a few weapons, and
the remaining generators. Then, they headed back into the tunnels, but
not before Cain made one final defensive move. Using his anomalous strength, he dragged an
enormous steel cabinet in front of the entrance, blocking it from view. If the mask did break in, hopefully, it would
not be able to see where they had gone. Then, together, they left the little slice
of familiarity they had carved out in this frightening new world and set off into the
unknown. Now go check out “When Day Breaks SCP-049”
and “SCP-001 - Can SCP-049 Finally Cure When Day Breaks?” for the first two parts of this epic tale!
