The footage begins and you're treated to the headshot of a pasty, gentle-looking teenager. The background is sparse, but what can be made out is the urban landscape of a city street during a chilly night, evident by the ambient breeze and faint fog in the boy's breaths as he speaks in a shy voice.

"Hey guys, Noah here! So, uhm, this is the first time I've done this so just please bear with me... I was riding the bus the other day and couldn't help but notice this creepy-looking subway we passed. According to Google Maps, this place doesn't exist. I searched for hours and couldn't find any information on it. No names, no records, no documents, nothing. I'm kinda a horror geek so naturally this kind of stuff is right up my alley, and I figured why not make one of those Creepy Exploration videos on it? I hope to make this a series if I can find enough places to explore, but I'll see how you guys like it first!...if anyone's even out there..."

The camera twists around and it stays that way for the rest of the video so you can see everything through the eyes of Noah. Roughly, at least. He lazily lets the camera hang for a couple seconds so all you can bask in are his tennis shoes as they walk across a cold sidewalk. He turns the corner and the ground suddenly shifts to a staircase made of concrete and metal, reaching downwards to an abyss. Noah picks the camera up so you get to stare the uninviting darkness in its eyes.

"I doubt you guys want to see everything color-washed with green the whole video," Noah assumes so softly it's almost a whisper, with billows of heavy breath trailing out from beneath the camera, "so I thought proactively and brought my phone!"

A black smartphone wrapped in the pale fingers of Noah's right hand, tips reddened by the cold, rises into the right corner of the shot, and the darkness is instantly flushed from existence by the flick of its flashlight. The illumination is weak, but it gets the job done. Noah descends down the stairs, each step making a scrape of concrete against the rubber white soles of his shoes. Once he reaches the foot of the well and takes you deep underground, pillars and dust-drenched benches are strewn about a dark, endless-looking basement. The railroads are revealed to be completely empty by Noah shining his light into the blackened trenches and peering the camera over its edges.

"I'm looking for a logo. What creeps me out most about this dump is how it's not registered under a single railway company, so...be on the look out," he awkwardly tries to make the show seem interactive.

He meanders through the many chipped pillars and makes sure to linger on them for a couple seconds to capture the graffiti.

"Well, there's some signs of life, at least," he quietly foot-notes.

Next the amateur cameraman stumbles upon a gaping, albeit boarded up, doorway, with a sign marked "MAINTENANCE" above its frame. There's just enough room for someone like Noah to squeeze underneath one of the "cell bars", so to speak, of wood.

"Oh man, this is so illegal..." he hesitates before dipping down to his knees. "Good thing I'm as small as a frickin' kid," he mumbles bitterly, such little volume that it's hardly picked up by the microphone.

He snakes through the doorway, the creaking of his sweatclothes providing some incidental ASMR, and rises back to his feet on the other side. The "maintenance" part of the depot has a much different aesthetic from the public half. While the station's face was an atrium of brick-and-mortar floors and dirty white tiled walls, its insides look to be a network of hallways. Everything is hospital-esque in its crystal white pristine, stylishly accented with a modest black. Noah puts the most attention, however, on a blurry bold logo installed upon the plaster walls.

"Oh, I finally found one! This must be the company that owned this place!"

The camera focuses.

"SCP FOUNDATION"

"The SCP Foundation...never heard of it...Not that I'm a subway company expert or anything. Let me look it up real quick."

Noah films himself Google'ing the mysterious organization only to get an error webpage.

"Oh right, there's probably no service down here. Guess the only way is forward..." he says, timidity more transparent than usual.

He continues down the lightless, claustrophobic corridors, sneakers squeaking with every step on the hard tile floor, until he gasps, stops dead in his tracks, and goes as silent as a church mouse. There's a motionless, soundless pause, almost like the video froze.

"Do you hear that?" he whispers.

The camera's mediocre sound quality aren't as potent as Noah's own ears, so he has to move a couple paces forward until the microphone finally picks up what he's hearing. There's a very faint alarm in the distance, just barely heard through the outskirts of the hallways.

"It sounds like a siren...that's the last thing I'd expect to hear down here. I think I might've found something I wasn't supposed to..."

Noah's slow, sight-seeing stroll escalates to a power walk, as if he's been caught by the call of the alarm and reeled in like a fish. Finally, doors start appearing alongside the subsidiary piping you've been seeing. At first mere supply closets, nothing to make a whole video on, but at last Noah hits the jackpot in the form of a messy office. The ray of his light washes up upon the desk, chairs, and filing cabinets, some tipped over, like the waves of the ocean upon a beach. One of the drawers in a cabinet is torn wide open to reveal it packed with hefty yellow envelopes. After pocketing his phone, Noah's hand crawls back into view to pluck a file out from the array and brandish its bold red "CLASSIFIED" stamp. You can barely hear a gulp come from behind the camera as Noah flips the envelope open to bask in all the white documents it contains. Noah vocally skims the top secret files one by one under his breath as the siren still slightly rages in the background.

"This containment facility is codenamed Site-19, under the public front of a shut down metro station..."

He flips to the next page. A block of text is accompanied by a picture of a shapely shadow that looks to be an excerpt from grainy CCTV footage.

"SCP-106, nicknamed by personnel as 'The Old Woman', is an...aggressive humanoid entity covered in a corrosive dark goo that allows it to...phase through walls...said by the head of its research team Doctor...something," he substitutes the censored name, struck out by a black marker, "to have the mind of a cunning, sadistic...sexual predator?!"

He retreats a couple pages forward. This document has a picture of similar quality, illustrating a concrete female mannequin that looks to be locked up in some sort of holding cell, like a prisoner.

"SCP-173, nicknamed by personnel as 'The Sculpture' is a statue that appears to be animate and possibly...sapient? It responds to humans with deadly aggression...What the heck are these files talking about?!"

He wildly thumbs through the stack of papers in a desperate attempt to find something to make sense of.

"SCP-049, The Plague Doctor, SCP-096, The Shy Girl, SCP-682, The...Hard-To-Destroy Reptile?! This has to be some kind of joke..."

Noah's rummaging around in the Area 51 stand-in is interrupted by a bubbling, visceral gurgle heard out the right side of your headphones. The camera turns to the unearthly sound, coming from a massive black stain in the wall that certainly wasn't there before. What looks to be the pellucid shadow of a voluptuous woman, just like the one from the documents, gorily peels itself from the grimy plaster, plopping to the floor and sticking the wet-sounding landing. This is all caught by a camera so dead-still it could be mistaken for being tripod-mounted, but as it turns out, the cameraman is just that frozen in his shoes with an ice cold terror as some Lovecraftian abomination manifests before his very eyes. Noah finally moves, but it's a mere step back, which gets caught on one of the collapsed filing cabinets so both him and the camera come tumbling to the ground. The camcorder slides across the floor, lands in the doorway, and happens to catch a wide shot of Noah on his back cowering in the shadow of SCP-106, smiling from ear to ear in a toothy and twisted grin. You finally get to see the face of Noah's horror. His eyes and mouth are as wide as can be, and sweat drains from his pores. Shaking out of his fearful paralysis, he rolls over onto his side and tries bolting for the door, but 106 catches him by his ankle and rips him back down. His hand crashes down onto the camera.

"OH GOD, PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!" Noah blows out the mic with his screams for mercy. "NO NO NO! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

106's choke around his foot excretes the goo that covers her from head to toe, engulfing his right sneaker with black. Then the watery growth starts moving up his pantleg, slowly swallowing him like darkness itself as he shrieks and blubbers in overwhelming terror. It engulfs his legs, then his torso, then his head to muffle his cries, before finally snaking up his outstretched arms and around the camera as he desperately clings on it with nothing else left. Everything is ingested by black, leaving only the red "REC" icon and white border overlay against the void.

The last noise the camera picks up is a deep yet feminine, throaty giggle, surely gurgling out the inhuman throat of SCP-106.