 Hello, and welcome to the SCP Versus series. Today, I thought I'd do something a little different than what I've been doing, and pit two groups of interest against each other, with a well-known SCP in the middle. I had a couple of ideas kicking around in my head for this, and I kind of put them all together into one story. Hopefully it works out for you. So let's get started with Marshall Carter and Dark versus the SCP Foundation. I've been afraid of flying since I was 8 years old, and it's never been a huge deal. If you don't want to fly, you don't have to. I drive, I take a train for long trips, and one time I took a bus, but I'm never doing that again. The SCP Foundation is flexible when it comes to travel, so my job never really made me move all that much anyway. It works out. Point is, I can avoid it, but when I was 8 years old, the idea of flying really hadn't even occurred to me. I was sitting up in my room playing Runescape, and my mom and dad were arguing again, and they were very, very loud. You get used to it after a while, but sometimes you're just in a mood, and you can't take it anymore, and I got into one of those moods, so I climbed out my window and sat on the roof to look up at the stars. I could still hear them, muffled a little, but it wasn't as bad as it was inside. And out there, looking up, that was my safe space. Out there, the world just kind of slowed down and let me catch up. I could see out into the street and watch the cars go by, see people laughing, other kids playing, but eventually, I did have to go back inside because it was getting too cold and too late, so I stood up and I slipped. One foot flew off the roof, and then so did I in a weird end-over-end tumble. That was my first experience with flying. I landed on my back in the front yard, looking up at the sky. It knocked the air out of me, and it left me dazed. I remember laying there for a few minutes before my dad came out and found me. The whole world felt like it was spinning the entire time, it just wouldn't stop. They took me to the hospital, and it went away. It was fine, just a little bruised. But then they took me to a psychiatrist. I told them it was an accident, that I wasn't trying to kill myself, but they insisted on a few drugs to help keep my emotions in check. Kind of stuff that makes you fuzzy, makes it difficult for you to remember what you're supposed to do. My parents made me take them at first. I don't know if it was the drugs or the accident, but every time I laid down and tried to sleep, I felt like the whole world was spinning all over again. School was rough, especially once everyone started thinking I was a suicide risk, made it hard to make friends. In high school, they called me Crash, which, let's be real here, there are worse nicknames to have, but the origin of it always bugged me. No one ever believed me when I said it wasn't a suicide attempt, but I also never went out on the roof again. They wouldn't have let me anyway, but I never got to have that safety and calm that I was so used to. Right after I graduated, my parents told me they were getting a divorce. I wasn't happy, but who would be when hearing that? The worst part is, I think they stayed together just for me, and once I'd moved out they realized there wasn't a point anymore. They didn't even stay friends, they went to opposite ends of the country just so they wouldn't have to see each other. They hated each other, but they stayed together for me. Makes holidays kind of rough, especially since I don't fly. When I got out of college, I started to work for the SCP Foundation. My job was to examine dangerous ideas, which I know makes it sound like there's a fascist state involved, but I mean legitimately dangerous ideas, like physically dangerous. One info hazard I helped classify and contain actually makes you vomit up your appendix if you just think about it. Working for the Foundation, you learn that the power of thought is essentially unlimited. And I met my wife working here. She was a receptionist for my boss and she was beautiful and smart and funny and everything I'm not, but she loved me anyway. When I was growing up, I always said I'd never have a marriage like my parents. I'd never wanted to end up hating the person I love. And for a while, that was true. But about a year ago, she saw some papers she wasn't supposed to see. I mean, these kind of slip-ups do happen from time to time. We try to keep it to a minimum, but sometimes things happen. Out of courtesy, they told me about the amnestics. They didn't have to, but they wanted me to watch for any side effects because sometimes people have adverse reactions. And for a few days, she couldn't form any new memories. And for one of those, she didn't recognize me at all. That was crushing, looking at her like that. I mean, she was still the same sunny, vibrant person, but it was like we'd never met. I didn't want to live in that kind of a world, you know? Then it slowly came back to her little things at first. And then one day, I woke up to her kissing me and I knew she was back, or well, I thought she was back. See, amnestics aren't an exact science. And it's impossible to target just one memory and delete it. And she was never quite the same after that. Maybe it was in my mind. I mean, most people wouldn't have noticed the things that I saw, but I did notice. She'd forget her keys sometimes. She'd lose things. Sometimes she'd talk about things that never happened. It was never enough to mean anything important, but I knew she wasn't the same woman I married. And I started to hate her for that. This is the part where you can probably start to hate me reasonably, because it's not her fault, I know. She can't control your ideas. And I knew that one day what happened to her was going to happen to me. And really, that bothered me more. I mean, read the wrong paper and suddenly I'm not me anymore. I'm just a copy that mostly matches the original. I mean, I asked about retirement, but the same answer came back every time. You couldn't get out without a full course of amnestics. More serious treatment, by the way, than what my wife had gotten. And I definitely wasn't ready for that. So I hatched a plan instead. I contacted Marshall, Carter, and Dark. They're always up for a trade. And I offered my knowledge in exchange for a way out. And they came to me with a deal that gave me everything I wanted. So I accepted it. Why wouldn't I? And that is how we ended up in a Cessna, 12,000 feet in the air. I couldn't control how it felt. The fear of flying was real. But my beautiful, kind, wonderful wife, who I no longer really loved, maybe, tried to call me down anyway. And she still cared. And it kind of made me care, too. According to the official record, we ended up in an Iowa cornfield. And there were no survivors. As far as the foundation is concerned, we're buried in a plot on the grounds of Site 88. I went to the funeral myself. Not a single person looked directly at me, or, by the way, the completely empty casket. Of course, it's never that simple. See, I went to my own funeral to find her. The mask that Marshall, Carter, and Dark had put on us had worked. I mean, no foundation employees could see us, but we were both foundation employees, too. So she's gone. I'll never see her again. I made a mistake. It was a silly mistake. I tried to shield her from all this. I bet if I'd have told her about it, she'd have noticed the flaw in my plan. But I didn't. So she didn't. I thought for a while I could live with it. I thought maybe I could just start a new life. But it was at that point I realized living without someone you care about is harder than living with someone you hate just a little. I mean, what was she doing? Did she find someone else? I'm never going to know. She could be dying right now. She might have lost her keys one morning, never left her house ever again. So I went back, and I asked them to fix it. And Marshall, Carter, and Dark said, sure, but there was a catch. There's always a catch with them. I had to go to site 19 and snoop around in their files. And once I found a good SCP I could steal, that they could market, I was supposed to give it to them. Should have been a piece of cake. It's not like the foundation can see me. They couldn't even comprehend me. And they definitely would never remember me. So I waited. I scouted the building. And yesterday I broke in. I went straight to this room because I knew what was here. And I knew it would be perfect for resale. And I got locked in. I think most of the problems in my life come from me not being as smart as I think I am. They can't remember me, of course, but they sure as hell can remember to close the door I left open. So now I'm stuck laying here on my back, staring at the ceiling, wondering how my life got so out of control and watching the world spin around me like always. If I die here, I don't know what will happen to my corpse. But if you can find this and you can read it, I'm here. In SCP-055's containment chamber. Just unlock the door. Please, bang. I don't wanna die alone. And that's that. If you like the video, please scroll down and hit the subscribe button and then hit the notification bell next to that so you're notified when I upload new videos. As for the rest of you, if you wanna support this kind of content, go over to my Patreon at patreon.com forward slash de-samarian and pledge at any level, like everybody on the screen here has. Thank you very much for watching and thank you for letting me know I'm not alone out here. I'll see you again on Tuesday.