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| “ | Living human subjects are the only way to proceed forward, I am decided. My cure is of little use on dead flesh, and I have gleaned all I can from your generous supply of corpses. My desires turn towards tending to those still living who suffer from the disease.
— SCP-049
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SCP-049 is a humanoid creature featured on the SCP Wiki. It is an Euclid-class anomaly that is contained by the SCP Foundation and is obsessed with curing an unknown ailment he only refers to as the "Pestilence". Due to his appearance and behavoir, SCP-049 has been nicknamed "The Plague Doctor". SCP-049 can kill with a touch and is able to reanimated dead bodies, which are labled as SCP-049-2 instances.
SCP-049 was discovered during the investigation of a series of unknown disappearances in the town of Montauban in southern France. During a raid on a local home, Foundation investigators ran into several SCP-049-2 instances who were attacking local law enforcement while SCP-049 observed the conflict from a distance while taking notes. After all SCP-049-2 instances were killed, SCP-049 willingly entered Foundation custody.
SCP-049 proved to be cooperative, viewing the Foundation researches as like-minded individuals, and was occasionally recieved animal carcasses or D-class personnel to experiment on. This ceased, however, when he attacked and killed Dr. Hamm, the researcher assigned to him, claiming that he was infected by the Pestilence. Despite this, SCP-049 has remarked that he intended to obtain living test subjects to further his research despite the Foundation's wishes.
Battle vs. Frankenstein's Monster (by Aaron Siegel)[]
The Monster, pursued by a vengeful Victor, found temporary comfort in the empty and lifeless shadows of the alleyways of an industrial London. Frankenstein had chased his creation across the world over the murder of his loved ones due to his ignorance, neglect, and hatred towards the Monster, and now he had finally found reprieve from the bloodthirsty man. He huddled in the dusty and dark alley, taking in whatever warmth he could from the burly cloak that covered him and hid his grotesque form from whatever poor souls found themselves in the alleyway.
“Bless you coat, and the warmth and cover you have given to me at these bleakest of times,” The monster whispered, “And let me finally rest here at my heart’s greatest content.”
This rest was short-lived, as the echoed sound of paced footsteps strode across alley, breaking the night's silence. The monster rose his gaze to swiftly snatch a peak at the intruder, but only caught a glance of a black garb similar to his own, albeit much more well-kept. Naturally curious, the monster took another look from the corner he laid in, this time nearly jolting back with surprise. He saw a man dressed in the attire of a classical Plague Doctor staring straight towards him, the man’s cold green eyes looking at the monster as if he saw straight through his guise, peering out of a porcelain mask.
“Friend! Or otherwise! Excuse my retreat, I hadn’t expected company in this bleak street,” the monster retorted, “I ask to be left, if you so choose, as I have not had a rest for some time.”
“No foes I see here, new friend laid on the ground,” the man spoke out, clearly ignoring the monster’s original request, “And to friends I offer this sweet treat, a cure for all those I seem to meet, as a Plague festers across this city of soot and death.”
"While I give thanks for that kind gesture, I'd rather decline. So long I have traveled without but one rest, so I repeat my previous request: I ask to be left alone, as it has been long since I have felt at home," the monster breathed out, hiding a rasp in his voice.
"Oh, my friend, but you look so pale, the skin on your hands are as if it was dead," Said the doctor, once again purposely ignorant of the repeated request, "I beg of you to take my cure, the plague has already proliferated through this cursed town, and I see the Great Pestilence in you," With a swift slight of hand barely noticed by the relaxed and cloaked figure, the thick fabric covering one of his arms quickly shifted upwards, exposing his raw, mangled, and grotesquely stitched flesh. The Monster then noticed a firm grasp on his arm, the leather gloves of the doctor now clenched on his biceps. "And I assure you, friend, my cure is most effective."
Battle[]
As his arm was held in the grip of an Iron Maiden, the bells of a distant clocktower chimed the dawn of a new hour. With each strike, the Monster felt his uneasy grip on life grow more and more distant, drowned in a welcoming numbness.
The monster felt warm and cold in the grasp of death, staring a familiar face in the eyes.
Before the numbness could fully grip him, however, the Monster latched onto reality. He threw off his cloak, revealing a patchwork of discolored skin, and threw the Plague Doctor with a renewed handle on life. The doctor flailed madly before skidding across the floor, his mask cracked and oozing a tarish liquid.
The fiend staggered as he rose, one of his arms motionless. It's tone grew cold and distant, interspersed with the thick thuds of liquid hitting the ground.
"Ad mortem, ad somnum. Ad mortem, ad somnum... Nam quid in morte possit somniis."
The Monster couldn't tell if its poor Latin was a result of delirium or some greater alienation. The thought was interrupted by an inhuman wail, so primal it seemed to have torn through the very strings that made the unholy melody in their throats.
It was calling its kin.
Four barren figures trusted themselves on the monster, their faces contorted into such an inhuman expression of wrath that they had lost all identity given to them by their creator.
"To die, to sleep,"
The greatest creation of Frankenstein felt his lifetime's struggle fade into insignificance as the scientist's stitches were torn out of place, wounds burning as his barren flesh was slammed into the bloody mud that coated the alley's floor.
"To die, to sleep,"
The monster tore at his assailants, crippled arms and legs, yet until their last breaths they clawed with a bloody lust that should have never crept its way to the world.
"For in this sleep of death what dreams may come..."
The monster, in a frenzied panic, threw the tattered bodies crunching against the wall, and leaped towards the doctor, who had pulled out a rusted and crude instrument. The doctor jabbed his knife into the neck of the monster, each of them leaking blackish fluid.
For a moment, each of them stood, staring into each other's paled eyes.
The doctor dropped to the ground, mumbling incoherent rhetoric on life and death.
The Monster looked at the trembling body of his opponent, and coughed blood before beginning to walk away.
Epilogue[]
SCP-049 Research Log
Addendum D-1: Level 4 authorization required: On 7-15-20██, samples from SCP-049's mask were successfully delivered to bioanalyists in Site-15's Euclid containment wing. Retrieval of the sample went smoothly, and was preformed by three Junior researches previously cleared of the 'Pestilence' criteria (See Addendum A-1). Microscopic analysis revealed large streaks of Scar tissue akin to that seen in severe muscular injury. Further analysis revealed that these scars persisted across the majority of SCP-049's mask and in portions of its left digits. When questioned by cleared personnel about the origin of these scars, SCP-049 only replied with "An inspiration", before ignoring any further questioning.
Expert's Opinion[]
While SCP-049's minions had the numbers and durability to take on Frankenstein's monster, the misunderstood undead outclassed them in speed and strength, with an intelligence to match SCP-049 itself. While SCP-049 had a potent weapon in its deadly touch, the Monster's undead state of being kept it from being fully affected by the 'cure'.