The complete story of the life of SCP-049

[76561199435615825]

Long ago, in the year 1349, the world was gripped by the merciless grip of the bubonic plague. Amid the despair and death, in a small town located in the Southern region of England, there emerged a figure known as Dr. Haselhurst. Armed with an unique and mysterious ability, he seemed to have the power to heal those afflicted by the terrible disease. His methods were unconventional, often involving intricate surgical procedures and alchemical concoctions, but they yielded results that baffled even the most learned scholars of the time.

With every life he saved, Dr. Haselhurst felt a glimmer of hope. Yet, the burden of his gift weighed heavily upon his shoulders. As the years passed, the people of the village hailed him as a savior, but their gratitude masked their growing fear of his uncanny abilities.

The year was 1363 when fear and paranoia began to grip the town. Rumors spread that Dr. Haselhurst's abilities were not of divine origin, but rather the result of a pact with the Devil. The people whispered that he was a practitioner of witchcraft, a sorcerer who used his knowledge to manipulate life and death. In a time when fear and superstition reigned, his remarkable abilities were seen as a curse rather than a blessing. In 1364, the fear reached a fever pitch, and a mob of enraged townsfolk stormed Dr Haseulhurst's dwelling.

In a cruel twist of irony, the man who had spent his days saving lives found himself hunted like a beast. The mob descended upon his home, torches and pitchforks in hand. Dr. Haselhurst's pleas of innocence were lost in the deafening roar of hatred. The mob's frenzy knew no bounds, and in the chaotic madness that ensued, he was mercilessly attacked. Bruised, bloodied, and broken, he managed to escape, fleeing his home and leaving behind the ashes of a life once dedicated to healing.

Dr. Haselhurst left behind his home, his memories, and the ashes of his hopes, seeking refuge and anonymity in the city of of London, where he started a new life as a baker under the identity of Lachlan MacEoghain. Yet, the scars of his past still marred his soul, and the pain of lost purpose lingered in his heart. The warmth of the ovens couldn't dispel the cold emptiness that had settled within him.

Becoming a baker was not merely a profession; it became a form of therapy, a way to find solace and focus in the simple rhythm of kneading dough and tending to the ovens. The act of creating something tangible and nourishing might have provided a small sense of accomplishment and purpose, but the deep wounds within him were not so easily healed.

Centuries passed, and Dr. Haselhurst's tragic tale became one of solitude and despair. The once vibrant healer faded into a quiet existence, his life's purpose fractured by accusations he could never dispel. His conscience grew heavy as he watched the world evolve around him, an eternal witness to the changing faces of human cruelty and mistrust.

It wasn't until the Enlightenment began to sweep across Europe that reason began to triumph over superstition. In 1662, as scientific curiosity blossomed, Dr. Haselhurst started to practice medicine once again under his original identity.

In 1665, as he predicted, another epidemic of Bubonic Plague started in England. His unorthodox methods, rooted in his alchemical knowledge, once again proved effective, earning him a reputation as a genius.

In the year 1666, whispers of his remarkable skills reached the ears of the English monarchy. King Charles II extended an invitation to Dr. Haselhurst, recognizing his brilliance and hoping to tap into his knowledge. As the plague reared its head once again, Dr. Haselhurst stood at the king's side, doing what he did best—treating and containing the disease.

However, the glow of his acclaim caught the eyes of the powerful and envious. The nobility, threatened by his influence and authority, conspired against him. Whispers of treason reached even the king's ears, and Dr. Haselhurst's undoing was set into motion. At some point in 1674, a group of noblesman started to spread news of an affair between him and Queen Catherine, the whispers of a love that never was. One day, as expected, the false news reached the ears of the king.

In April 1675, Dr. Haselhurst was falsely accused of treason against the Crown, accused of plotting against the very nation that had once been his sanctuary. As he stood before the court, the weight of his past sins and the weight of the accusations bore down upon him. Once again, he found himself at the mercy of the very institutions he had sought to serve.

In June 1675, Dr. Haselhurst was deported to a land known as Australia. His conscience was heavy with the burden of his tragic journey. The years had not been kind to him; they had stripped away his innocence, shattered his dreams, and made him question his very existence.

In Australia, he began a new life as a farmer, cultivating wheat and potatoes to sustain himself. His days were marked by solitude and hard work, his only companions the memories of his past and the whispers of regret that lingered in the wind.

As decades passed, Dr. Haselhurst's perseverance and dedication transformed his modest farm into a thriving estate. He accumulated wealth and resources, nurturing the land that had offered him sanctuary. With the fortune he had amassed, he built a ship, determined to return to the land that had betrayed him: England.

In the year 1789, Dr. Haselhurst's ship sailed back to the shores of his homeland. As he made his way through the city of London, he realized that the world around him had changed, the people and customs of his past long forgotten. He gazed upon the massive factories and the bustling cityscape with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow, wondering if he could find a place to belong once more. Dr. Haselhurst's return was met with cold indifference and curious glances. The world he had known had moved on, leaving him stranded between eras.

After Dr. Haselhurst changed his identity to Dr. Wright, he once again donned the role of a healer, hoping to make amends for a past he could not change. As Dr. Wright, he worked tirelessly, dedicating his life to medicine and aiding those in need. However, the weight of centuries bore down on him, his eyes haunted by the memories of lives lost and relationships shattered.

In the year 1830, his life took another dark turn when he stumbled upon a chilling discovery. A mutated strain of Yersinia pestis, more insidious and deadly than ever before, threatened to plunge the world into an even more devastating pandemic. Haunted by his past and driven by an unrelenting sense of duty, Dr. Haselhurst saw in this new pathogen a chance at redemption. He devoted the remainder of his days to understanding the mutation, working tirelessly in the seclusion of his makeshift laboratory. His life became a solitary pursuit of a second chance, a redemption he believed he owed to the countless souls he had witnessed suffering and perishing before his very eyes.

Driven by a fervent determination to atone for the suffering he had once endured, Dr. Haselhurst immersed himself in research, dedicating the remainder of his existence to understanding and eradicating the mutated plague. He embarked on a relentless journey across Europe, chasing leads and collecting fragments of knowledge from any source he could find. His tireless pursuit of redemption became his solace, a way to drown out the echoes of his past misfortunes.

With each passing day, Dr. Haselhurst grew more consumed by his obsession, allowing his own humanity to slowly erode in the process. He developed a fixation on eradicating the new plague, at any cost. In his desperation, he resorted to kidnapping innocent individuals, using them as subjects for his experiments. The once-savior of lives had now become the arbiter of death, his path irrevocably twisted by the horrors he sought to prevent.

His actions did not go unnoticed. In 1902, British law enforcement authorities tracked down Dr. Haselhurst. He was captured in Frankfurt and brought back to England, where he was then put in a prison. Incarcerated within the cold, unforgiving walls of a prison cell in London, Dr. Haselhurst awaited the reckoning he knew he deserved.

But justice would not be served as expected. Theodore Mortimer, a wealthy and ruthless businessman saw potential in Dr. Haselhurst. He offered the warden a substantial sum of money – one thousand pounds, an astronomical amount for the time – to obtain custody of the deranged doctor. Driven by greed, the warden accepted the bribe, and Dr. Haselhurst found himself removed from a prison cell only to be thrust into a new kind of captivity.

Mr. Mortimer's intentions were not noble; he saw Dr. Haselhurst as an oddity, a living exhibit to be put on display in a grotesque freak show. Paraded before paying audiences, Dr. Haselhurst's humanity was stripped away, reduced to a mere sideshow act. The once-brilliant healer was now a caged curiosity, a shell of his former self.

Stripped of his freedom and dignity, Dr. Haselhurst was thrust into a twisted carnival sideshow, his once-praised healing touch now perverted into a spectacle of horror. Under the cruel moniker of "The Birdman of England", Dr. Haselhurst was put on display in countless freak shows, shackled like a beast and paraded before gawking crowds who marveled at his odd physical appearance.

The years stretched on, each one more agonizing than the last. Dr. Haselhurst's days were filled with despair as he remained in captivity. The applause and gasps of amazement turned into jeers and taunts, and the once-celebrated healer was reduced to a mere curiosity, a grotesque oddity to be gawked at.

It wasn't until 1916 that Dr. Haselhurst found a glimmer of hope. With the world embroiled in the chaos of war, he managed to escape his captors and flee to Edinburgh in a train. Seeking refuge and solace, he found an eerie yet fitting hideout within the abandoned dungeons of Edinburgh Castle. During the daylight hours, he remained concealed, studying about the plague. But as night fell, he would emerge from the shadows to experiment on unsuspecting visitors who wandered too close to his lair.

As the years turned into decades, Dr. Haselhurst watched the world transform around him. However, as the decades progressed, he saw a world that increasingly disappointed him. The vibrant energy of the early 20th century gave way to the extravagance of the 1970s. The society he once knew evolved into something unrecognizable. The disco era left him disillusioned. He saw humanity's priorities shift, leaving behind the values he held dear. The lively streets and intellectual debates he had once reveled in had given way to flashing lights, booming music, and a relentless pursuit of pleasure. The late 20th century brought a cultural revolution that Dr. Haselhurst struggled to comprehend. The world seemed to be spiraling into a state of moral decay in his eyes.

As the years passed, Dr. Haselhurst became more isolated, his only companions being his research and memories. He watched as humanity continued down a path he believed was leading to its downfall. His isolation and bitterness grew as he perceived a degradation of values and a detachment from the virtues he had once held dear.

As Dr. Haselhurst's lifespan extended far beyond the natural limits, he became an anomaly, a creature of time who had experienced centuries of change. His mind grew heavy with the weight of witnessing humanity's trajectory, from its moments of triumph to its moments of degradation.

In the year 2008, reports of people mysteriously disappearing near the historic Edinburgh Castle sent waves of concern throughout the city. Whispers of dark magic and ancient curses began to circulate among the citizens, filling their minds with fear and intrigue. The local authorities were baffled by the inexplicable disappearances, and rumors about the supernatural nature of the incidents grew stronger with each passing day.

As panic continued to spread, the SCP Foundation was alerted to the situation. They dispatched a team of experienced Mobile Task Force operatives to investigate and contain whatever malevolent force was at play. Among the team members was Sergeant Jack Rockwell, one of the very best in the MTF team.

Upon arriving at Edinburgh Castle, the squad quickly set up a temporary base of operations. They began analyzing the area for any signs of abnormal activity, conducting interviews with locals, and collecting evidence. As days turned into weeks, the team's efforts yielded limited results, and frustration began to mount.

It was during one particularly gloomy evening that a breakthrough occurred. Sergeant Rockwell was poring over witness accounts when he noticed a recurring theme: descriptions of a mysterious figure dressed in archaic, plague doctor-like attire. The descriptions were eerily consistent, leading him to believe that this figure was linked to the disappearances.

Further investigation led the team to uncover a hidden dungeon beneath the castle. The room was dimly lit and filled with medical instruments, each designed to resemble archaic and crude medical tools. In a dark corner of the dungeon stood the enigmatic figure described by the witnesses – Dr. Haselhurst.

Dr. Haselhurst lunged towards the MTF agents with unnatural speed and aggression. Chaos erupted in the chamber as the MTF members scrambled to defend themselves. The clash was fierce, a symphony of gunfire and desperate shouts reverberating off the walls. Despite their training and advanced weaponry, Dr. Haselhurst's relentless assault proved to be overwhelming. One by one, the members of the MTF unit fell before the onslaught.

In the midst of the chaos, Sergeant Rockwell managed to retreat, battered and bloodied. Fleeing the room, he sought refuge in a nearby alcove, with his comrades fallen around him, he realized that he was their last hope. Desperation fueled his actions as he reached for a extremely powerful taser from his belt, an unconventional choice given the circumstances.

Summoning his last reserves of strength, the lone MTF operative aimed the taser at Dr. Haselhurst, who was looking at the bodies of the dead operatives, and pulled the trigger. A surge of electricity coursed through the air, striking the Plague Doctor with a blinding flash. Dr. Haselhurst convulsed and collapsed to the ground, his grip on reality momentarily shattered.

Seizing the opportunity, the operative moved swiftly to secure Dr. Haselhurst with reinforced restraints. The chamber fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the crackling of the taser's residual charge. The MTF operative surveyed the scene, his heart heavy with grief for his fallen comrades.

Dr. Haselhurst was captured, contained within a sterile cell, and dubbed SCP-049. For the first time in centuries, he was neither hailed as a saviour nor hated as an enemy nor paraded as a freak. He was merely a subject of study, an enigma to be probed and analyzed.

In his sterile confinement, SCP-049's tragic tale reached its melancholic crescendo. Isolated and alone, he gazed out at a world that had long forgotten his name. The healer who had once saved lives was now a prisoner of his own past, a living relic of bygone eras. And as the years rolled on, SCP-049's story remained trapped within the walls of the Foundation, a silent testament to the cruel irony of fate.

[who cummed in my mailbox]

Am ain't reading all of that.

[Mr Orange]

the only thing scary about scp 49 is that he his french

[joe.alton1]

Originally posted by Carlos Domingo:

the only thing scary about scp 49 is that he his french

real