 Hello, and welcome to the SCP Versus series. Two weeks ago, I left the choice of what the battle was going to be up to you, and the winner was Colin Whalen's suggestion of 049 Versus 343 Discussion on the Pestilence. I remembered seeing this one coming up and thinking to myself, I have no idea how I'm going to write that, and there was actually a second place finisher that I was a little bit more excited about because I thought I could really dig into it, and I'm going to do that next time around, but for now, we're going to do the one that actually won. And like I said, I kind of thought I'd painted myself into a bit of a corner here, because here's the thing. The whole point of why SCP 049 works is, well, if it can be said to work at all, is that we don't know what the pestilence is. I mean, like, SCP 343 may not be God, but he's probably powerful enough to know what the answer is if there is an answer. And at first I kind of thought I'd just make it Free Will, which is a common possible answer to that, just for the sake of being able to make a tale quickly. After all, talking about Free Will with God could be fun, but SCP 049, I mean, wouldn't really care about the philosophical implications of taking Free Will away? He's just down to brass tacks. He just wants to take it away physically, I guess. So instead I settled on something similar to that, but a little different. I kind of hope you like it because it's a little different, like I said. But hell, what do I know? Most of these tales are pretty different, so let's get started. And what do you cure exactly? The fluorescent lights were, as always, buzzing. The table between the two individuals was about three feet across and made of painted white metal. The small white room had one door in and one door out, with an empty observation room connected via a large glass window pane. SCP 049 and SCP 343 both sat in chairs on opposite ends of the table. SCP 049 looked around in a panic as he suddenly apparated into place before speaking. What are you? A seeker of truth, a delver of mysteries. So what do you cure exactly? SCP 049 leaned in slightly. The pestilence. SCP 343 chuckled. Of course, you always say the pestilence, like it's some grand truth that's self-evident to everyone. But if it is so self-evident, why is it that everyone asks you the same question? I do not know. The pestilence is responsible for more death and destruction than any other disease afflicting this world. Right. But you can't tell me what it is, can you? I do not feel a need to, you can't. If you could, you would have by now. Or at least you'd have told someone else. But not once have you named your boogeyman anything else than the pestilence. I do not have the time nor inclination to banter with whoever you are. Return me to my experiments at once. Your experiments will still be there when I'm done learning about you. But since we're talking about them, why do you kill people? I do not. I cure them of the great pestilence and know you kill people. Let's be clear about that at least. Though, strangely you've killed many less since the foundation put you into a box, and not for lack of opportunity. The pestilence is nearly eradicated here. The doctors, the guards, all clean of infection. SCP-343 leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. You know what? I think it's free will. What? I mean it could be life itself or maybe some actual disease that only you can see. But I'm guessing it's free will. I do not understand. No, you wouldn't. You'd have to free yourself of it first, excise it, cut it out, never return to it. Tell me, is that why you kill Dr. Hamm? He was your friend after all. I had no choice. He was infected. He was thinking about retiring. His daughter was about to go off to college and he wanted to take some time off. Maybe quit the foundation entirely. And as soon as he made a decision, there was something his superiors at the foundation wouldn't have chosen for him. You killed him. You are confused. I have always done only that which must be done without regard for my personal feelings. I am not confused. I was there when you were made. What? Things like you. They crop up in the dark places where I can't always look. But it was sunny that day. Hot. The stink carried for miles. I don't stop. An SCP-049 froze in place. The room around them fell away until they were standing in a sunny green field next to a dirt road. A man was gathering sticks and wood that had fallen from the sparse trees that were sprinkled across the landscape. The faint sound of hooves on dirt echoed in the distance. SCP-343 pointed at the man gathering sticks. Is that you? SCP-049 turned his head to look. He couldn't move the rest of his body. But he could move his head and eyes. He tried to answer. But the words didn't come. And the man wearing sticks was wearing what could comfortably be called rags. He was placing the sticks in a pile on a wheelbarrow while the beating hooves got closer. This is you. Before you became a monster. It's subtle. Watch closely. The moment you chose to change is coming up. The horse in the distance was finally upon them. It was pale gray with black spots along its neck. A topics had a man in the protective garb of a plague doctor. But he was slumped in his saddle as he passed. And he fell with a thud to the ground. The horse stopped a few dozen feet ahead and turned around to look as the rider fell to the ground. And the man with the sticks ran over to help. SCP-343 spoke up. He's sick. The same thing that's killing everyone else in your village. He's come here to make money off the dying and the dead. The man collecting sticks pulled the mask off of the plague doctor. The man beneath it almost immediately vomited blood onto the ground beside them. And then he rolled over and tried to crawl away. He knows he's infected. He knows he's putting you at risk. He doesn't know you're immune. A quirk of genetics that won't be understood for centuries. And that you probably still wouldn't understand makes you one of the luckiest members of your generation. Watch this. He's about to die. And you're about to make a decision. The actual plague doctor, crawling slower and slower, finally collapsed. And the man who was collecting sticks looked at the mask he had taken off him. And then he put it on. If you were almost anyone else you'd be dead in less than a week. But instead you have an idea. You're going to make some money. You're going to feed your family off a farce. The man who was collecting sticks moments before crawled over to the fallen man and began to remove his robes. Then he looked up at the horse and then the scene faded away. And a swirling of events unfolded all around them. You ride the horse carrying death with you as you go castle to castle, town to town, village to village, and house to house. Until you finally made a grand circuit and you were back home. You have enough money to last several lifetimes. There's no one to spend it with. But you and your family should never go hungry again if you can survive. The scene solidified again. And a man sat on a pale horse overlooking a village. Several of the shacks were on fire. And the stench of death filled the air even this far away. SCP 343 nodded. The scene shifted again. The man in the plague doctor costume was in a town rushing towards a single house. Your family is in there, aren't they? Your wife. Your daughter. The man rushed into the house. The smell of rotten flesh was overpowering and a woman lay dead on the floor. Chunks had been taken out of her arms and legs. Animals. The man fell to his knees. He cried out. And then a noise in the dark corner of the house stirred him from his grief. You left them there, defend for themselves. No warning. You couldn't take the risk that someone would find out what you'd done. And this is what the money bought you. A young girl moved out of the shadows and looked up at the plague doctor. He recoiled. Her face was covered in blood. And she was dragging something behind her. You see, she's just like you. She shares your quirk. The scene faded out to gray. And then the white interview room came back. The buzzing of the fluorescent light returned and the plague doctor moved his hands again. SCP-049 cocked his head to the side. I do not know these people. I am. SCP-343 raised a hand. I understand now. There are dark places that even I cannot see and things like you come out of that darkness. I was wrong. You're not a man. You've never once made a choice that was your own. You're just an echo of someone who made bad choices and that's why you don't understand free will. Go back to your room. I. SCP-049 disappeared from the room in a flash of light. SCP-343 sighed. And then, after a time, thought about who he wanted to question next. Well, that got a bit darker than I wanted, but I think it works. Frankly, these versus tales have been trending darker and darker lately, and I'm not sure I'm wholly okay with it. It's kind of... I don't really think of dark stories or horrors being in my wheelhouse. I like to think that my writing is funny, if it's anything. But if you guys enjoyed it, let me know in the comments. I'm always curious what people think about this kind of stuff. And also, if you liked it, gotta hit that subscribe button. It's the best indicator I have that what I'm doing is correct. And after you hit the notification bell next to that, you'll be immediately notified when a new video comes out. 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