The Haunting Origin of SCP-106 | The Young Man

Hidden amongst the chaos of World War I, a dark entity lies in weight surrounded by a sinister and confusing scene. Upon its discovery, a corporal and his troops must confront a mysterious entity that opens Pandora's box. Welcome back to the campfire task force, pull up a log, grab yourself a snack, and settle in because it is 3 a.m. somewhere, which means it's time for Red Web Scary Stories. The series where I, Trevor Collins, share my favorite terrifying tales from the internet with my good friend, Alfredo Diaz. Wait, leave Pandora's box? Not the Pandora's box, but the proverbial Pandora's box. You know what I mean? Yeah, 'cause I mean that could be applied. There's not just one dangerous box in the world. Right. It could be applied through a dangerous box, is already I'm intrigued. Mm-hmm, just because it's temptation at its core. You see a box there, you know, you told this tale or your ship, it's just books, cool. Gonna want to open it. I don't know, you go to like a certain little chachki shop, trinket shop, how many things are you touching, picking up, putting down all that kind of stuff and you got this box here during a war and that just sets the tone for this grand story. Absolutely. I mean, Hellraiser was predicated on the idea that people can't stop opening boxes, you know what I mean? That is a very good point. Yeah. You want to get your fingertips on these boxes. Now, I will say the proverbial box here that gets opened, you don't want to be touching it. Oh. Again, it's not a literal box, but it is this thing that once engaged with. Now even more curious. Oh, it's, there's a lot of intrigue in this one, and so as this show continues to move on, we continue to kind of build it more, and so today's going to be a really interesting exploration. Of course, we have this amazing story, which is a classic internet tale called The Young Man, but it opens up as the task force has wanted for so long, our discussion and exploration of SCP stories. These are a type of creepypasta stories. SCP stands for Secure, Contain, Protect, and it revolves around entities, cryptids, metaphysical ideas, things that are dangerous and terrifying, not always, but like usually are. It's really hard to put those in a box as it were. It's hard to kind of explain them all very briefly, but today's story is almost like the origin of an SCP called 106, and so at the back end, I kind of want to do a light exploration of what that SCP is, and we have some images for you. This one's going to be a good one. All right, well without further ado, submitted for the approval of the task force, let's dive into the story called The Young Man. Nobody could like Corporal Lawrence. That's not to say that nobody tried or that he was somehow unfriendly, merely that he was one of those few that seemed to be wired differently. However, in the trenches of World War One, normalcy was at a best a relative term, and one that had minimal relation of life, such as it was. Lawrence fought, listened to orders, and didn't disrupt other soldiers, and that was all that was required. So what if people felt increasingly uncomfortable around him? In a place where flesh rotting off your bones while you were still alive was a baseline of concern, a little personality conflict ranked several levels below a paper cut. Lawrence, for his part, dealt with it the way he always had. That is to say, remain totally unaware of the avoidance. The same way a man blind from birth cannot mourn the memory of a color. Corporal Lawrence couldn't bemoan a lack of company. He was quiet as he had no one to talk to, and still as he had nothing to do for long stretches of time. The enemy trench was less than a mile away and had gone silent for several days, letting boredom and nervousness sink in more than normal, coupled with the unease that seemed to radiate off of Lawrence like heat waves. The worst part was that there was no distinct reason to dislike the corporal. He was a plain man, average height, average build, bland of voice and action. Nobody could recall him raising his voice in joy or anger. He did have the occasional odd mannerisms, however. He tended to stare a beat or two longer than was acceptable at people. He rarely slept as well, and Bunkmaid said he would mumble in his sleep almost constantly. The content of those nocturnal ramblings when they could be understood were often odd and potentially unsettling. One private moved to another barracks when you heard the name of his daughter pass Corporal Lawrence's lips, followed by a bubbling muffled giggle. It was strongly theorized that he was sent over the trench by his commanders more out of a desire to have him away than for his minimal combat skill. He and 14 of his fellows were sent across the nightmare-ish scarred waste of the nomans land between the trenches to record the enemy trench and secure it if possible. Many seemed to hope that Lawrence would have the opportunity to prove his devotion to his country by making the ultimate sacrifice for it. It was while he was gone, that three-day gap as the men held their breath, waiting for a surprise volley of shells, that someone started asking questions. Whereas before, it was almost taboo to speak of Corporal Lawrence. Since his departure of both him and his aura, rumors seemed to descend with the passion of the denied. No one remembered him ever talking of home. No sweet smelling letters came, no soggy dirt streak letters left. He mentioned his dreams often, and griped sometimes with the men over missed foods or pleasures, but never with any real passion. So what's your read on this man, Fredo? So far, he's very aloof and distant odd, but it seems hollow in general. Like, hollow of any sort of emotion inside. And given the situation, I guess I can understand, but it's kind of haunting to everybody. I can see that, but I mean, well, this is like way back then, right? So I feel like you might have some undiagnosed things, and so that's just how he presents himself. Might be socially awkward, you might have different things going on in his head that are different than what he's putting out. Sure. So I sense that. So if anything, maybe just like misunderstood, because he doesn't really seem abrasive or confrontational, just a little out there. A little out there. Yeah. And honestly, I'm just finding this word now. I want to hold on to this hollow feeling. Oh, yeah, that's a good word, too. Yeah. In the context of like a creepy story. Yeah, it could be more to it, right? And then also, it was like the military camps and bases and all that. And there's just us roamed and be a man, and all that kind of stuff. And so he sticks out where he normally probably wouldn't, you know, yeah, like the term hollow here, because it does feel hollow and it doesn't, it doesn't make you question like what's going on here? Yeah. Well, it starts to outline this interesting person. And I wanted to outline it because I want to be able to theorize on the back end. But I do find it to be strange that, you know, given the circumstances, it makes sense. But the fact that the other soldiers are almost kind of like hoping he can make the ultimate sacrifice is kind of, that's kind of dark. Yeah, that's a little, that's a little rough, a little rough. That's not great at all, but that's where we are. Okay, so we have a strange man, some distance between the other men. But let's continue with this evolution of the oddities. Questions started to float among the higher levels of command. Nobody was able to find his station orders. He'd come in with a squad of reinforcements transferred from France, but there was no paperwork. The rest of the reinforcement squad had never seen the man before he'd been lumped in with them that night before the trip, along with the snips and scraps of other squads decimated by the Germans. Whisperers filtered among the grounds of the corporal being a curse. Nearly every man who'd shared a bunkhouse with him had gotten trenchfoot, and the rooms he haunted always seemed to smell more musty and sickly sweet, even for the trench. The men sent out over the No Man's Land with Corporal Lawrence heard and cared for none of this. Just another man among many, with all the death certificates awaiting a stamp that would fall at any moment. They moved fast and low from crater to crater, slipping over the slick mud and barbed wire, the only thing that seemed to grow in the blasted waste. Charging the last spurt and into the trench, they were greeted not with the harsh bark of German orders and rifles, but a dense, close silence. Preparing for an ambush, the men started to filter out into the tunnels and halls of the trench. The men already nervous were not calmed by their investigation. The trench's stank of mold, sweat, and a thin undertaste of rotten fruit. A vile, clawing slimes seemed to have pooled in every divot and crack, sticky as glue and itchy on the flesh. In a world where rats and insects would try to snatch food from your mouth, even as you ate, they saw nothing alive. Not so much as a fly. An army lay in chaos, munitions spilled on the ground, rifles tossed like pick-up sticks, a mess haul had been reduced to ruins. The tables and chairs piled in the center of the room, charred and twisted. The rations seemingly stamped into the dirt by many feet, and still nothing alive or dead was found by the increasingly anxious soldiers. This scene is horrifying for two reasons. One, we are reading a scary story, and I know where it's going. I know how what's building up, the void of humanity, the void of life in this place, mixed with the vivid imagery of World War I, collide in such a unique way where you're painting with the reality of horror and you're painting then with the confusion and the absence of life and the mystery that is now building. And this stink, there's not even flies or rats here. It's such a potent description. - There's definitely something going on here, for sure. You know, before we kind of discussed and learned about his mannerisms and who he was as a person, but now it seems like there's just death and decay surrounding him. That's not normal. - Right. - That's not normal. That's terrifying. I wouldn't want to be in a room let alone the same camp as something like that that's happening. And honestly, we'll try to pull everyone together to like go to the higher I wasn't like, there's something going on here that needs to be looked at. Well, I think what's fascinating is that while he does have these oddities that surround him and we kind of like explored those for a bit, this is now cutting to the mission where he's taking several men who kind of don't really care about any of that. They have this mission now where they need to cross no man's land, enter into the German, like the enemy trenches and its crickets. They're expecting, you know, they obviously have the anxiety of what they're gonna find and when they get there, there's no enemies there, no one to fight, no one to like hold off or anything, it's just a confusing empty scene. - Right, that I think is the most terrifying because they're scared off what's scared them off. You know what I mean, and if they weren't scared off, then what happened to them? And how do I avoid having that happen to me? - Right, right. So they look through, there's mangled chairs, there's food stomped into the mud, but let's continue to see what else they might find. Private Dixon found the first body and managed to cry out before vomiting. They knew had been a man only because nothing else that size could have been there. It lay on the floor of the barracks, the entire floor. The flesh of it had been smeared somehow, spread like butter over the rough dirt floor. Bones already looking pitted and rotten stuck out in random angles like dead trees in a still swamp. The skull rested on one of the highest bunks facing the doorway, 10 gleaming white fingertip bones crammed into the cracked eye sockets. As one man went to examine it, he found the back of the skull had been crushed open, the rotting, sagging sponge of a tongue stuffed into the otherwise dry cavity. More remains were found, each seemingly more unsettling and strange than the last. A ring of hands in a sandbagged watch post, ten of them, fingers interlaced like a basket, the wrists ragged and broken. Two men in a tunnel skin leathery and thin as mummies. Eye sockets staring and empty, mouths locked impossibly wide, their clothes were rags under an oily black scum. The latrine sent even the heartiest, back gagging and shivering. Overflowing with excrement and intestines, gobbits of meat bobbed and oozed in the foul sludge. The whole surface dotted with what looked like thousands of clean slick eyeballs, nerves and tendons fanning out like goldfish tails. Corporal Lawrence was the first to find the hole, the other men loudly debating the better part of valor and their rapid withdrawal from the nightmare trench. It was small, in a section of fresh digging, the start of a new arm of trenches, projecting closer to the enemy lines. No more than four feet across, it seemed to be the accidental uncovering of a natural chamber, the empty blackness of a defying investigation. Private Dixon, recovered and blessedly numb from his previous ordeals, saw the corporal prod the edge with his boot, then crouch to peer in. Then suddenly, slide in, head first before the private could so much as utter a shout of a question. - We're all the bodies and now I'm regretting finding all the bodies. - In pieces smeared and rotting already? - Mammified. - Uh-huh. - Like, this is not normal. - No, no, no, no. I wouldn't say so. - Yeah, so I'd like, what do you do in this type of situation? - That's the question of this entire series. You put that on a shirt. What would you do? - It really is. Like, you're in a situation that no one has ever put in. - No, no. - There's no rule book to this. What am I thinking here, right? Um, maybe there's some kind of device or weapon that this side had and it backfired. - Ooh, interesting. - And this is where we're at now. You know, I'm not thinking straight super natural or are you like that. Like if I see some, I'm gonna believe it is what it is, but that's what I'm thinking. Maybe they had some weapon for us and it accidentally set off, but still it's super unnerving and I always want explanation. I do that, don't I? - Right, truly, I get it. I love when the story is self-aware. We got the men debating loudly. Corporal Lawrence is silently approaching this mysterious gunkhole and the other guys are like, all right, do we do the honorable thing and continue to explore this trench? Or do we just sprint away because this is nightmare fuel? - Yeah. - Meanwhile, Corporal Lawrence, over here poking and prodding some goo puddle and then falls in, just slides right on in. - Yeah, no, no, is that bravery or madness? - It's madness is what it is. - Dude, it's goo madness. - It's goo madness and you also gotta think that like, I don't know, right? You got someone that's not on the battlefield over radio somewhere saying go, push, go, you know, keep going and have no idea. - Yeah. I gotta be honest, I really appreciate private Dixon as being the POV here. Not only did he first stumble into the first body, if you can call it that, given the situation it's in, like covering the entire floor, but now he's first to witness this terror, which is the corporal, their boss, sliding into this gunk before he can even do anything. This man is witnessing, he's on the frontier of horror, just being the unwitting passenger of what's happening. This is wild, it continues to twist and go on, so I'm very curious on your thoughts as we continue. Private Dixon was a good soldier and rushed to the perceived distress of his fellow. When questioned later, he would provide little illumination as to what happened over the two minutes, corporal Lawrence spent in the hole. He could see nothing, the light of a torch seemingly gobbled up a few feet into that dense blackness. There were sounds, the rustling of movement over loose stone or rubble, an odd liquid shifting, a dry rustle that made him think of insect tusse that he used to collect in the summer. As he shouted for aid, there was a sudden upwelling of a repulsive stench, like a reptile house gone sour and old, and his fellow soldiers found him wretching helplessly beside the hole when they came around the turn. It was as they rushed to private Dixon's aid that the hand emerged from the hole. They stopped and raised their rifles in unison, roaring for the owner of that pale, trembling hand to identify himself. As they watched another hand join the first, followed by the pale, shivering head of corporal Lawrence. He was streaked and smeared with a tarry black ooze, packing and coughing thinly as he hauled his body up beside that of the gasping private. As they moved to help the men, the corporal vomited up a heavy stream of the same repulsive slime that coated his body in smears and globs, his curled, shuddering body, voiding more of it into his saturated fouled pants. They were hesitant to touch him, finally doing so after the seemingly endless river of grime stopped pouring from him. He was insensible, eyes rolling and wide. His body as limp as a boned fish. The men left the trench with all speed. Half dragging the corporal, they ran with no thought to cover or death, only escape. They crossed in record time, falling into their home trench, gasping and shivering. One man known to have bludgeoned a German to death with a brick curled on the floor in a sobbing heap. The commanders moved quickly, isolating the men and trying to calm the most lucid for a report. What spilled out would have been immediately dismissed as lies and hallucination were it not for the earnest, pleading stares of those reporting. Command calm them with the explanations of battle fatigue and strange gas weapons tests and shared silent focus stares as the cowed men were ushered out. - Hmm, see, that's, I thought, you know, I mean, whether or not it's gases or anything like that, it's like guys, we didn't see what you saw. - Right. - Don't worry about it. Ah, fatigue, those are failed tests, it's all fine. This is, unfortunately, you know, the type of knowledge that regular soldiers would get as opposed to being higher up. And then even the higher ups have no idea, but I'm sure they want to know more at the expense of others. And then maybe even like, figure it out, use it, weaponize it, all the sorts of things. - The old trope of leadership, wanting to take whatever the dangerous thing is, use it as a weapon, that's an interesting idea here. Cause on one hand, I see them definitely wanting to calm the situation, use some logic in grounding them and saying, "Hey, maybe it's just these things that have happened. You're safe and sound now, so it's okay to calm down, you're safe to calm down." But on the other hand, you're right, maybe it is a more malicious misunderstanding or just trying to distract them as they themselves try to figure out, "Can we weaponize this? Can we understand it? I can see it on both ends." Ooh. I don't even know how I would approach this. Of course, if it sounds so atlandish that I would want to throw it away as lies or hallucination, but they're honestly, earnestly looking at me and believing it, it would be a very strange thing to handle. This would be unprecedented, and so I think it is only natural to want to maybe calm them a little bit. Oh, most definitely. Having not seen what happened. Most definitely, but there is, I feel like that easily goes into underplaying things. Mm-hmm. It's a delicate balance. Yeah. It is, and so it's a unique situation, that's for sure. Corporal Lawrence had little to report. Of his time in the hole, he could, or would, say, little. He stated that he had slipped and fallen into what may have been some long-blocked underground pool, or perhaps a buried latrine. Of the sounds and smells reported by the private, he had nothing to say. Only that he had struggled a short time then managed to get back out just as the men arrived. Truly, he seemed none the worse for where. In fact, he seemed in better spirits than many had remembered ever seeing him, favoring the commanders with a wide, giddy smile as he was dismissed with a warning not to discuss the events. The corporal proved a changed man over the next few days. He was more talkative, but quickly had men wishing for his old unsettling silence. He rambled about the joys of close spaces, of creation, and destruction that seemed to spring up all around them. About human pleasures missed, the dimensions and ages of which made some men threaten Corporal Lawrence for the quiet and ignoble death, which only seemed to stretch the near-constant smile of his face even wider. Private Dixon, one of the corporal's bunk mates, whispered to a friend that he had woken up once to find the corporal standing over him in the night, his eyes as bright and flat as silver dollars. He found the private the next day, snarled in the barbed wire, his intestines spread nearly ten feet around him in every direction. And there we have private Dixon's unfortunate end. The unwitting witness to whatever was going on with Corporal Lawrence. He wakes up, sees him staring down at him in the middle of the night, tells somebody about it, and winds up just mulled and spread out. And so is someone hunting people down, you know? Hmm, someone something like there's so many directions that this can go into. Well, the fact that Corporal Lawrence is like smiling and almost giddy when he was usually distant and strange, now he's lamenting human pleasures missed, joys of closed spaces, creation and destruction, and he's smiling all the while and when people are kind of threatening him. Basically with death, he just smiles even more, so something's going on, something's changed this man. There's something's definitely going on. This is not a normal reaction of any kind, and I just feel like at this point, whatever happened there is going to happen here, whether or not we got something there, brought it back. Oh. And what sense is this some kind of biological disease, weapon or what not, is it supernatural? To me, it seems something has filled the hollow inside Corporal Lawrence. Oh. Like, is that him now, or is there something else there? Oh my gosh, just death and c-oh man, yeah, that's a good point. Yeah. That's a good point. It's the whole thing filled the hollow. It's such an eerie way to put it. Let's hold on to that as we find out what happens to the rest of this troop. So not one man from that trench survived the Great War, although few died in battle. A wave of sickness took the trench a few days after private Dixon's death. A strange, wasting sickness, it seemed to eat the flesh like acid, men waking up to find previously healthy flesh eaten down to the bone, oozing in blackened. A sergeant was found in a latrine, beset by a living carpet of rats. They refused to quit the body even when shot, and attacked several men before the body was recovered. Relief finally came. The bulk of the men being sent to various hospitals, many wasting away before they ever reached a bed. Corporal Lawrence was remanded to a French mental ward, transferred after several complaints from the hospital proper where he was first sent. It seemed his behavior hinted at a growing mental imbalance, culminating with an attempted assault of a nurse, which ended with the loss of three fingers from her right hand and the vision in her right eye. The corporal would rant quietly to the other patients, whispering about endless halls, pursuits in the dark, flesh laid out like pages of a book. It was dismissed as war fatigue, even as his behavior grew less violent and more unsettling. He vanished several times from the ward, only to appear several hours later as if nothing had happened. When pressed, he would begin to sing "my body lies over the sea" in an endless monotone until the doctors left, exasperated. Others on the ward clamored to be transferred from the whispering madman. A stale, musty foulness seemed to sit in the air wherever he stayed, an incidence of infection and strange, consuming sickness that had beset his home trench seemed to follow him like a cloud. Numerous attempts were made to transfer the man only to be met with bureaucratic confusion. No records were found of the man, no entry papers, commendations or incidents, not even a birth certificate. Through it all, he sat for hours on end, crossed like it on his bed, occasionally humming tunelessly, or rambling off the names of his wardmates between short, bubbling giggles. "This is just absolutely eerie. And no traces? Like, what is going on here?" "Exactly." "It's just like, I don't know, it's just kind of like demon or death and it's just praying on this, this, the sorrow and agony of this battlefield, you know?" "Ooh, or was it awoken by the battlefield? Was it discovered in the battlefield? Maybe it was always there?" "Yeah." And then the Germans, because they said the Germans were building their trench closer to the Allied forces, and that's where they uncovered this four foot wide pool, and then whatever happened to the German trenches happened, so it's almost like they uncovered it and maybe woke it up. "Oh, man, yeah, yeah." And then, for whatever reason, corporal gets drawn in, you know, you got those boots, and you know, you feel safe when you got a thick rubber sole, you want to go prodnette things? Squish, squish. I would feel a little bit safe, but then for whatever reason, it either drew him in or made him want to go in, or was there something wrong with the corporal all along, because now we find out there's no paperwork, no, like, birth certificate, no military commendations, no incidents. Right. Why is that? Or was that wiped because whatever they experienced, the Allied forces were like, "Let's just not document this down, let's make this a no man, like let's erase him, so no one goes stumbling into what was reported to us?" "Oh, what if it's that?" Yeah, leadership erased him to avoid an uncovering of this, of this thing that they were told about. "It did, there's so many layers to this." Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay, we're in the home stretch here, but I'm very curious to theorize more once we kind of come to a close on this story, what we think might have happened. Corporal Lawrence and 18 men vanished one November night, between a five minute nurse rotation at three in the morning. The room wreaked a rust, oil, mold, and sweet rot. Thick black swaths of crumbling ooze coated the beds in several of the walls, wide patches of its smearing and eating into the floor. Of the men there was no sign, at first. As they searched, one nurse shifted a bed aside, only to shriek and nearly trip across one of the sunken, wreaking depressions in the floor. In a tight, perfect spiral, where what appeared to be hundreds of teeth resting neatly on the floor. After counting, they accounted for the total of all the teeth of every living soul in that ward, all but one. The corporal was never found, nor were the men. The incident was swallowed by the constant barrage of horrors from the front and forgotten with ease. Stories of a cursed trench wandered across the front lines, often squelched for being bad luck. Until they came, stories of strange deaths, of disappearing men, found days later alive, but broken and twisted beyond comprehension. Stories of a strange dark figure, stalking the bomb-riddled towns of Europe. Yeah, I think so. I do think it took up corporal Lawrence. I think that's why he shifted in his demeanor. But now this is that ooey gooey Pandora's box I was talking about. I feel like he replaced Lawrence. And now he's become essentially some sort of demon buggy man across all of Europe. Yes, it's Erie and the thing is that it's just gonna keep going and bringing all kinds of death and decay as it passes through. Yes. But it's just also one of those things you're just so curious about, like how does it work? What is his name and where it comes from? There's just so many questions. Oh, absolutely. Now, the thing about this particular story is that it does end with a picture. I've got that picture for you here now. Oh. Now, the reason why I'm not gonna share it as part of the story is because there is real history behind it. Now, I do think that this story was predicated on this image. But if you want to take a look at the image that I've given to you, it says image at the end of the story. Also, take a look at the original photo because if it kind of pulls out, it shows you a wider image of one of the trenches. You know, people being looked at by medics, you've got this man that I'm showing you crouched in the corner. And for what I've seen, this comes from a Redditor discussing this. But this is a real photograph of a Canadian soldier during the First World War. This man was named Robert Rogers. And he's smiling and disbelief because he just survived being shot near the neck. Oh, my goodness. Yeah. And also, then, you know, after being looked at, he was sent back out into the trenches where, unfortunately, he did pass away. And so, I didn't really want to activate this image. Even if it inspires the story. Right. There's some real gore and gruesome history to it. But it is an unsettling image to be sure. Yep. I agree. That is a true image right there. That's something real. And that's just a face, a smile look of thankfulness and disbelief all at the same time, only to meet a tragic end, which is so unfortunate. And then in the original photo. Yeah, I mean, that's a deep trench. That's war. You got the medic tending to someone on the right side in the middle. Someone looks like he's being tending to as well. He's got his shirt off and he's getting his back look at that. A true real scene captured here. Yeah. And there is an eariness to it because of the context of all of it. But I also think the way the photo is, you know, you see this man kind of dirtied up from the trenches. His eyes are kind of glowing because of, I don't know if it's a trick of the light or what have you. But there's elements to this image that did make it into the story. But this is where I want to expand a little further because this story is seen as the origin story of an SCP called SCP-106. And again, if you're new to secure a contained protect, the SCP foundation is kind of a list of entities or objects or locations or whatever it might be. And they are all given numbers, almost like cryptic files. And they're given object classes on kind of if they're dangerous or if they're, like this one is an object class keyter, is what it's called. I think that's how it's pronounced. And it's said to be nearly impossible to contain. Whoa! Yeah. What are you seeing? It's, uh, it's a person with his, like, face is burned. There's whole body's burnt in charred. It's burnt in charred or it's, like, the black goo, they're, like, they're kind of lightly decayed, you know? Yeah, lightly decayed too, works, and the eyes are just. Yes! Like, either, uh, burnt over or the goo's consume them, but there's a glow in the middle. Yes, it's those silver dollar eyes that Private Dixon was talking about, seeing in the night. Yeah. So I won't read the entire wiki of this SCP, but I'll kind of read a few excerpts or what have you. But SCP-106 is said to be contained in a sealed container comprised of a lead-lined steel. And then it gives you kind of instructions as to, like, how big that container has to be, what materials it needs to be. It talks about needing electromagnetic supporters and things like that. The other image is, like, kind of a door. So it's a very corrosive entity. And when it takes over a person, they can move through walls. Like, that's what you're seeing in the first image. And what they leave behind is what you're seeing in the second image. Got it. That's what the black stuff is behind them on the wall. Mm-hmm. And that's all these behind. Very silent and hell-esque in that door. It's just a door and it's, like, rusted down. Yeah. And the third one I'm assuming is what happens to the person. Did it attack or something? This was one of the agents for the SCP foundation, right? So these are the people that help contain things. They were taken by SCP-106 and then released. And they were taken, I think, for about two hours or considered missing. And then they were released again and they were alive for about two hours. But this is kind of what the entity did to that person. Yeah, no. I'm good. Here's what they have for the description. It says SCP-106 appears to be an elderly humanoid with a general appearance of advanced decomposition. The experience 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. And 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. But essentially it causes corrosion, or a corrosion effect on all the matter that's around it, or that it touches. And so, yeah, any human victim that falls prey to it or gets pulled in is basically going to just start rotting and decaying. Hence why we saw what we saw in the German trenches. Damn. It says it might be a pre-digestion action. Like a fly. That's always disgusting. Yeah, so that offers a lot of extra insights as to what's going on. But the ooze and oz, though, outside of knowing that this is an SCP-106 origin story is fascinating. I love the idea of what you were talking about, was this always hidden here, or was some sort of entity woken up, or was it attracted to or feeding off the battleground? Was it created by the battleground because of the very unique moment in history that this was, like, the large amount of violence and death and dark kind of energy surrounding all of this? It's really fascinating. But yeah, so Pandora's Box has been opened and this entity now exists seemingly possessing individuals and continuing to hunt across Europe. And now it seems to be mostly out of containment. Damn. That's a whole series there. They could build just by hunting SCPs. Dude, when is that TV show happening? I mean, I'll probably sooner than later because there's already like SCP movies being- Exit 8? Exit 8, and then you have back rooms movie being made too as well. Yup. And so I feel like studios are digging into the SCP world, and so- Oh yeah. Maybe it's just a matter of time. Oh yeah, I mean, it's been a while, like some games have been made movies. But now it's really picking up steam, especially after talk to me. I mean, you got those Australian YouTubers who've now made a couple of movies and bring her back. Yup. It now seems like the snowball is building up steam. You got Markiplier with Iron Lung. I don't know if you saw recently, but there's rumors now that Sony is making Bloodborne with Jack Sceptic Eye as a producer. Yes. Yeah. So the dream of Redweb making the movie someday. Oh. Maybe it's alive and well somewhere out there, and maybe we do an SCP thing. I don't know. That would be cool. But just an anthology series where you're exploring all these SCPs, maybe trying to contain them, stumbling into them, origin stories, and maybe they all overlap in the end. But yeah, there's a lot to dig into with the many, many countless authors who have contributed to the SCP foundation. It is a really interesting subgenre to the broad, creepy pasta. And so I'm excited to explore some of these a little bit more for sure. Yeah, I agree. Any final thoughts on Corporal Lawrence there, Frado? It's just a unique one. Yeah. Especially just being out in the wild. Usually it's like you enter a room and then, you know, it's an SCP, or this just seems so out of containment. Mm-hmm. And terrifying. But also kind of subtle enough to just keep going. Yeah, like it's subtle enough that it would draw you into this dark pool of goo, and you're like, "Well, what's that?" That doesn't seem too sinister. Despite the gore around you, it's like a fly trap. It really is. You end up walking up to it, and it's got you hook line and sinker before you even know it. Yeah, mm-hmm. We are, yes, I'm too curious for our own good. Truly, truly. But with that, Frado, our story for the night comes to an end. I'll give you once again, two weeks, just long enough to kind of forget about it, catch up on some sleep, let your guard down. And then we'll be right back here to terrify you with another tale from the internet.