WEBVTT Kind: captions Language: en 00:00:00.280 --> 00:00:06.440 A man is running for his life, a deadly predator  hot on his heels. But no matter how fast he runs,   00:00:06.440 --> 00:00:13.320 how hard his feet pound the pavement and leg  muscles strain, he will never outrun his pursuer. 00:00:13.320 --> 00:00:17.960 After all, you can’t run from what you can’t see. 00:00:17.960 --> 00:00:22.920 His lungs scream for air, and he stops to  catch his breath, but when he opens his mouth,   00:00:22.920 --> 00:00:30.160 the air is sucked out of it, lungs crumpling  like wet tissue paper as he wheezes. His blood   00:00:30.160 --> 00:00:34.720 boils. His eyes roll back. He  doesn’t even have time to scream   00:00:34.720 --> 00:00:39.000 as he experiences the kind of horrific  death that afflicts astronauts lost in   00:00:39.000 --> 00:00:44.240 the vacuum of space…while he stands  in the middle of an ordinary street. 00:00:44.240 --> 00:00:47.680 No one notices him until he drops to  the ground, and they certainly don’t   00:00:47.680 --> 00:00:52.520 notice the shift in the air as a breeze  flees the scene. But what was there,   00:00:52.520 --> 00:00:57.120 floating on the air, that did  such a thing? To understand that,   00:00:57.120 --> 00:01:03.160 we need to go back to earlier that day, before  this man had the air ripped from his lungs. 00:01:03.160 --> 00:01:07.800 Moisture hangs heavy in the warm air. The  clouds are thick and uneasy in the dark,   00:01:07.800 --> 00:01:13.880 greenish sky. Here in Tornado Alley, residents  know what this kind of weather means- and they   00:01:13.880 --> 00:01:19.280 know it’s not good news. Anyone with any  sense is staying indoors today, windows   00:01:19.280 --> 00:01:25.720 bolted shut. No one would dare go out now, with a  tornado threatening to touch down at any moment. 00:01:25.720 --> 00:01:28.920 Unless, of course, they’re a storm chaser. 00:01:28.920 --> 00:01:33.240 The man sitting in his truck watching the  sky with bright, excited eyes has never   00:01:33.240 --> 00:01:38.640 used that phrase to describe himself, but  it certainly does apply. He chases storms,   00:01:38.640 --> 00:01:42.240 twisters in particular, along with  the rest of his team. Technically,   00:01:42.240 --> 00:01:47.080 it’s for meteorological research, but anyone  who knows him knows that he gets a thrill out   00:01:47.080 --> 00:01:53.320 of chasing down powerful storms, looking danger in  the face and coming back out of it in one piece. 00:01:53.320 --> 00:01:56.200 He started chasing storms young,  slipping out the front door to   00:01:56.200 --> 00:01:58.920 sneak a peek while the rest of  his family ran for the cellar,   00:01:58.920 --> 00:02:03.120 listening to the sound of the tornado sirens.  He would only join the rest of them when he   00:02:03.120 --> 00:02:08.800 saw that towering funnel of air, spinning  and spinning at hundreds of miles per hour. 00:02:08.800 --> 00:02:12.440 Somewhere along the way he even got  himself a couple of degrees in meteorology,   00:02:12.440 --> 00:02:18.000 all to understand those big behemoths of the sky  just a bit better. Now he knows they aren't the   00:02:18.000 --> 00:02:23.120 fingers of an angry god reaching down to touch  the earth, but the natural consequence of the   00:02:23.120 --> 00:02:30.120 right cocktail of moisture and air, of hot and  cool, twisting together until you get- well,   00:02:30.120 --> 00:02:35.440 a twister. Now, he does things with a bit more  finesse. He drives a properly-equipped truck,   00:02:35.440 --> 00:02:40.800 he tracks the storms with radar and top of  the line equipment, and he has a team to help. 00:02:40.800 --> 00:02:45.520 Not a big team, mind you, too many cooks in  the kitchen is how people get burned. At least,   00:02:45.520 --> 00:02:49.240 that's what his mama always used to  say. But he's got his best friend and   00:02:49.240 --> 00:02:51.400 long-time chase partner in the passenger's seat,   00:02:51.400 --> 00:02:56.600 running the computer and keeping an eye on the  radar. Then, in the backseat, there's the interns,   00:02:56.600 --> 00:03:00.800 a pair of nice college kids that haul the  equipment and keep the operation running. 00:03:00.800 --> 00:03:05.720 With those two fine fellows dotting the i's and  crossing the t's, the leader is free to focus on   00:03:05.720 --> 00:03:11.760 his passion: The storms. And it looks like there's  a big one brewing. They won't get right up in it,   00:03:11.760 --> 00:03:16.840 not just yet. He has to wait for it to touch down,  wait for those churning clouds up there to fulfill   00:03:16.840 --> 00:03:21.760 their promise. He can tell it won't be long,  though. He can see the funnel starting to form,   00:03:21.760 --> 00:03:27.640 stretching out and down until...yes!  The leader can't help it, he lets out a   00:03:27.640 --> 00:03:33.120 whoop of excitement. That's a tornado right  there, folks. And that means it's go time. 00:03:33.120 --> 00:03:36.560 His chase partner has already generated  a prediction for the tornado's path,   00:03:36.560 --> 00:03:41.040 so all they need to do is drive around to  meet it on the way. He revs the engine,   00:03:41.040 --> 00:03:46.400 reminds the others to buckle their seatbelts, and  speeds across the wide open field. He veers down   00:03:46.400 --> 00:03:51.360 a dirt road, pedal pressed to the floor,  and skids the truck toward the tornado. 00:03:51.360 --> 00:03:55.560 As they get closer, the team can hear  that classic sound, like the roar of a   00:03:55.560 --> 00:04:00.480 freight train. It's not the biggest they've  seen, not the most dangerous by a longshot,   00:04:00.480 --> 00:04:05.480 but it's still a mighty impressive storm up  close. They can feel the truck start to rattle,   00:04:05.480 --> 00:04:09.440 winds whipping against the windows. The  leader shouts over the raging storm,   00:04:09.440 --> 00:04:13.880 giving the team the heads up: he's about to  drive them into the center of the tornado. 00:04:13.880 --> 00:04:19.360 Everybody holds on tight, ready to ride the storm  the way they have so many times before. But as   00:04:19.360 --> 00:04:25.120 the engine revs and the truck's wheels spin, the  team witnesses a sight they've never seen before.   00:04:25.120 --> 00:04:32.200 Right there in front of them, all of a sudden, the  tornado dissipates. All storms subside eventually,   00:04:32.200 --> 00:04:37.240 of course, but never like this. Never such  a sudden dissolution at the height of its   00:04:37.240 --> 00:04:43.240 strength and activity. But it doesn't matter  whether or not it makes sense, it happened. 00:04:43.240 --> 00:04:47.640 The leader sits in the drivers' seat for  a moment in silence. All that excitement,   00:04:47.640 --> 00:04:52.920 all that planning and work, has dissipated  in an instant along with the tornado. 00:04:52.920 --> 00:04:57.280 Soon, the leader's partner breaks the  silence with the question on everyone's mind:   00:04:57.280 --> 00:05:02.240 now what? One of the interns pipes up from the  back, offering to stay here and investigate the   00:05:02.240 --> 00:05:06.840 area while the others go back to the original  site of the tornado's touch-down. She climbs   00:05:06.840 --> 00:05:11.560 out of the truck and promises to give the team  a call when she's finished inspecting the area. 00:05:11.560 --> 00:05:16.040 With that, the other three members of the team  speed off, back to their starting point. The   00:05:16.040 --> 00:05:20.920 leader isn't sure what exactly he's looking  for, but he needs to do something- otherwise,   00:05:20.920 --> 00:05:26.720 the day feels wasted. But no matter how many times  he drives the truck back and forth over the area,   00:05:26.720 --> 00:05:32.440 following the path of the tornado, there are  no clues to be found. It just disappeared.   00:05:32.440 --> 00:05:36.440 Maybe they miscalculated something,  maybe it's just one of those strange   00:05:36.440 --> 00:05:40.800 quirks of nature. But it seems like it  might just be time to cut their losses,   00:05:40.800 --> 00:05:46.560 pack up, and head back to town for a meal and  a strategy session. There's always next time. 00:05:46.560 --> 00:05:50.000 The intern grabs his phone and calls  the other intern to get her location,   00:05:50.000 --> 00:05:55.920 so that they can swing back around and pick her  up. But she doesn't answer. He calls again. Still   00:05:55.920 --> 00:06:02.000 no answer. A bit unusual, but it's fine. That's  what location tracking is for. They track the   00:06:02.000 --> 00:06:06.960 signal from her phone, and drive back over. But  when the leader inspects the horizon, ready to   00:06:06.960 --> 00:06:12.320 call out to the intern and usher her back into  the truck, he can't find her anywhere. The three   00:06:12.320 --> 00:06:17.840 men climb out of the truck, growing increasingly  more concerned with every passing moment. Then,   00:06:17.840 --> 00:06:23.280 they spot it, lying on the ground a few hundred  feet ahead. A crumpled heap, what could almost   00:06:23.280 --> 00:06:28.880 be mistaken for a pile of clothes at first  glance. But as they approach, they can see the   00:06:28.880 --> 00:06:37.600 horrible truth. It's her, the intern, lying on the  ground. Her eyes are wide, bulging, and glassy. 00:06:37.600 --> 00:06:43.320 Her mouth is stretched open in a silent scream.  Not a speck of blood on her, no visible wound to   00:06:43.320 --> 00:06:48.640 indicate what might have killed her. No broken  bones or limbs bent out of place. It's as if she   00:06:48.640 --> 00:06:53.920 suddenly stopped being able to breathe, and  dropped dead of suffocation where she stood. 00:06:53.920 --> 00:06:58.120 At first, no one says a word. None of them  want to be the first to break the silence and   00:06:58.120 --> 00:07:03.440 acknowledge what they all see right in front  of them. She's dead. Something killed her,   00:07:03.440 --> 00:07:08.240 and none of them were there to help. The  other intern speaks up. He volunteers to   00:07:08.240 --> 00:07:12.240 call the police, though none of  them know exactly what to report. 00:07:12.240 --> 00:07:15.880 While the intern makes the call, the  partner, the right hand man, grabs the   00:07:15.880 --> 00:07:21.440 leader's arm. Something's up with the radar,  he explains. It's picking up unusual activity,   00:07:21.440 --> 00:07:26.240 strange currents in the air just above  where they're standing now. Not a tornado,   00:07:26.240 --> 00:07:29.520 something else. Something he's never seen before.   00:07:30.080 --> 00:07:35.440 He understands that the circumstances are extreme,  but it could be connected to the girl's death. 00:07:35.440 --> 00:07:39.920 Maybe the two of them should follow the pattern,  and check things out. The intern volunteers to   00:07:39.920 --> 00:07:43.760 stay with his fallen partner and wait for the  authorities, if the two older men want to go   00:07:43.760 --> 00:07:48.680 investigate the wind patterns in the meantime.  The leader considers for a moment, then decides   00:07:48.680 --> 00:07:53.880 that if they can't chase a storm, they might as  well chase some kind of answer. So the leader and   00:07:53.880 --> 00:07:59.040 his right hand man hop back into the truck, and  follow the mystery air currents down the road. 00:07:59.040 --> 00:08:02.680 As they drive, the leader asks his  partner for continuous updates on   00:08:02.680 --> 00:08:07.120 the unusual weather they're tracking. It  doesn't behave like any storm they've seen,   00:08:07.120 --> 00:08:11.320 like any of the air currents they tend  to measure while watching tornadoes form.   00:08:11.320 --> 00:08:14.760 This particular current seems  to bend and weave at random,   00:08:14.760 --> 00:08:20.520 defying the patterns around it as it goes. It  doesn't move like the weather, the partner notes. 00:08:20.520 --> 00:08:25.760 It's more like a swarm of insects, a flight  of birds engaging in what ornithologists call   00:08:25.760 --> 00:08:30.840 "murmuration." It's something starlings  do, he explains. They fly as flocks in   00:08:30.840 --> 00:08:36.280 these mesmerizing, unpredictable patterns.  But of course, as they look up at the sky,   00:08:36.280 --> 00:08:41.400 there are no starlings. There are no  insects swarming like some biblical plague. 00:08:41.400 --> 00:08:46.600 Hell, there aren't even clouds anymore,  just a wide open blue sky. All of a sudden,   00:08:46.600 --> 00:08:51.000 the leader feels his partner's grip on his arm  again. The air current is doubling back, headed   00:08:51.000 --> 00:08:56.520 the same way it came. Almost as if- and he knows  how silly this sounds- it was headed back to the   00:08:56.520 --> 00:09:02.640 spot where they found the girl's body. The spot  where the living intern is waiting for the police. 00:09:02.640 --> 00:09:07.080 Both men know how silly it seems, to be worried  that a rogue air current is going to attack   00:09:07.080 --> 00:09:12.720 someone, but the leader can't shake the sense of  dread that floods his body. He jerks the wheel,   00:09:12.720 --> 00:09:17.840 spinning the truck around and speeding back to  the spot where the intern is waiting. On the way,   00:09:17.840 --> 00:09:22.080 his partner gets a phone call from the kid. He  answers, but he can't hear anything on the other   00:09:22.080 --> 00:09:27.920 side except some kind of interference, like  someone blowing into the phone's speakers. 00:09:27.920 --> 00:09:29.360 Then, the call fails. 00:09:30.480 --> 00:09:34.880 Something is definitely wrong. When the leader  sees the bodies slumped on top of each other,   00:09:34.880 --> 00:09:39.640 two now where there was one, he slams on the  brakes so hard that the seatbelt nearly snaps his   00:09:39.640 --> 00:09:44.760 ribs. But it doesn't, it just knocks the winds out  of him for a second as he fumbles with the buckle,   00:09:44.760 --> 00:09:49.000 then the door. He stumbles out of the truck,  and the wind is knocked out of him all over   00:09:49.000 --> 00:09:54.960 again as he takes in the up-close sight of the  two interns, stacked one on top of the other,   00:09:54.960 --> 00:10:01.800 both wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and dead. The young  man has his phone still in his hand, thumb frozen   00:10:01.800 --> 00:10:07.440 over the previous number he dialed. He called  for help, but they didn't make it in time. 00:10:07.440 --> 00:10:09.360 Not much point in calling the police again,   00:10:09.360 --> 00:10:14.040 they're already on their way to pick up  one body. Now they'll just have two. The   00:10:14.040 --> 00:10:19.240 leader's knees buckle beneath him, and  he sits on the grass, face in his hands. 00:10:19.240 --> 00:10:21.080 What happened here? 00:10:21.080 --> 00:10:26.160 It all went so wrong so fast. Sure, all  of them knew storm chasing was dangerous   00:10:26.160 --> 00:10:31.480 when they got into it, but no storm he's ever  seen is capable of killing someone like this,   00:10:31.480 --> 00:10:36.040 just sucking the life out of them  without leaving so much as a scratch. 00:10:36.040 --> 00:10:40.040 The leader wipes a tear from his eye, when  he suddenly feels a whoosh of air whip across   00:10:40.040 --> 00:10:45.520 his face, as if something flew past him at a  breakneck speed. He calls out to his partner,   00:10:45.520 --> 00:10:51.360 asking if the other man felt it too. But  he doesn't get an answer. That's odd. The   00:10:51.360 --> 00:10:57.240 sinking feeling in his gut is back, and he looks  up, searching for the other man. There he is,   00:10:57.240 --> 00:11:02.720 standing just behind the truck. But something's  wrong...the other man has his back to the leader,   00:11:02.720 --> 00:11:07.080 but he's thrashing around and waving  his arms like a drowning victim. 00:11:07.080 --> 00:11:11.880 Slowly, carefully, the leader makes his way around  the side of the truck to get a better look at his   00:11:11.880 --> 00:11:18.520 partner. It's a sight he'll never forget as long  as he lives. The other man's eyes are bulging out   00:11:18.520 --> 00:11:24.560 of his face, blood vessels bursting. His mouth is  wide open, gasping for a breath he can't seem to   00:11:24.560 --> 00:11:31.400 catch. He struggles against some invisible  force, like he's drowning on dry land. No,   00:11:31.400 --> 00:11:36.680 like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of  the air just around him, like he's trapped in a   00:11:36.680 --> 00:11:42.280 vacuum sealed bubble. His partner locks eyes with  him, and in spite of the struggling, in spite of   00:11:42.280 --> 00:11:49.360 his tenuous grasp on life, the leader can see  him mouth one word in perfect clarity: Run. 00:11:49.360 --> 00:11:53.360 The leader doesn't fancy himself a coward, has  never thought of himself as the kind of man   00:11:53.360 --> 00:11:58.440 who runs from a threat, but he's also not the  kind of man to ignore a friend's dying words. 00:11:58.440 --> 00:12:03.080 He turns and flees, hearing the dull thud of  his best friend's body hitting the ground behind   00:12:03.080 --> 00:12:09.480 him. Then, he hears the whoosh of air, or of  something moving through the air. Whatever it is,   00:12:09.480 --> 00:12:15.400 whatever killed the others, it's coming after  him next. He isn't sure exactly what it is,   00:12:15.400 --> 00:12:20.160 or if he can outrun it, but he's sure  as hell going to try. After a lifetime   00:12:20.160 --> 00:12:24.800 of chasing danger, he won't let  the danger catch him. No sir. 00:12:24.800 --> 00:12:28.280 But where can he seek shelter out  here in the middle of nowhere? 00:12:28.280 --> 00:12:33.160 Not much out here but abandoned buildings,  farmland, maybe an overpass. But an overpass   00:12:33.160 --> 00:12:38.360 is nowhere to hide in a tornado, and it certainly  won't protect him from whatever's after him. Then,   00:12:38.360 --> 00:12:44.000 he spots it up ahead: a metal grain silo,  recently reinforced from the looks of it.   00:12:44.000 --> 00:12:47.280 Normally he'd never dream of climbing  into one of those. His mother warned   00:12:47.280 --> 00:12:52.000 him growing up about how easy it was to  slip beneath the surface and suffocate. 00:12:52.000 --> 00:12:55.400 But if he's lucky, and he's got his  fingers crossed he just might be,   00:12:55.400 --> 00:13:00.480 it'll be empty. Only one way to find out.  He climbs the ladder, faster than he's ever   00:13:00.480 --> 00:13:07.600 climbed anything before, and opens the top of the  silo. He peers down inside, and his heart leaps. 00:13:07.600 --> 00:13:10.480 There's some corn in there, but  not much. Not deep enough for him   00:13:10.480 --> 00:13:15.280 to get lost beneath the surface. Hopefully  enough to break his fall. He climbs inside,   00:13:15.280 --> 00:13:20.360 seals the thing up behind him, and drops.  He hears his leg break before he feels it,   00:13:20.360 --> 00:13:26.560 the sick crunch of bone. Then, the pain. But  amidst the agony of the freshly broken bone,   00:13:26.560 --> 00:13:32.600 he takes gulps of stale, musty air and thanks  his lucky stars that he can still breathe. 00:13:32.600 --> 00:13:35.840 The question is...for how long? 00:13:35.840 --> 00:13:39.760 Something thumps against the side of the  grain silo, like a tree branch falling.   00:13:39.760 --> 00:13:44.680 Then comes a rattling, like strong winds  shaking the metal walls. It travels all   00:13:44.680 --> 00:13:50.560 over the surface of the silo, shaking every  inch from bottom all the way up to the top. 00:13:50.560 --> 00:13:56.040 But as the rattling continues, the predator  intent on catching its prey, the man realizes   00:13:56.040 --> 00:14:02.080 that he has picked just the right place to  hide. Whatever is after him, it can't get in. 00:14:02.080 --> 00:14:06.000 Now, he just has to wait for it to get  tired. Hopefully, it'll be before he   00:14:06.000 --> 00:14:14.480 dies of thirst in here. An hour passes.  Then another. Then another. Then… Quiet. 00:14:14.480 --> 00:14:20.480 He can't explain how, but he knows that  whatever it was is gone now. He calls for help,   00:14:20.480 --> 00:14:24.440 and tells the officer on the phone where  to find the fallen bodies of his friends.   00:14:24.440 --> 00:14:28.720 He gives up his life of storm chasing, afraid of  what he might encounter while he's in pursuit of   00:14:28.720 --> 00:14:35.600 another tornado. He's never been scared of them,  but what else is out there? As his mama said, the   00:14:35.600 --> 00:14:43.680 devil you know beats the devil you don't. He'll  never know, but this particular devil was SCP-885. 00:14:43.680 --> 00:14:49.280 SCP-885 is a living creature of unknown  origin and composition. Wherever it goes,   00:14:49.280 --> 00:14:54.440 it displaces all fluids within its perimeter,  both liquid and gas. The Foundation has   00:14:54.440 --> 00:14:59.320 attempted to analyze the creature's interior,  but there appears to be no known matter within.   00:14:59.320 --> 00:15:04.440 It is, as far as anyone can tell,  essentially a complete vacuum.   00:15:04.440 --> 00:15:09.200 Sonar imaging has allowed the Foundation to  determine the perimeter of SCP-885, which   00:15:09.200 --> 00:15:14.320 is a cloud of about two hundred ovoid elements  intersecting and dividing seemingly at random. 00:15:14.320 --> 00:15:16.480 Whether it is one single creature made up of these   00:15:16.480 --> 00:15:20.640 ovoids, or a swarm of smaller  creatures, is currently unknown. 00:15:20.640 --> 00:15:26.040 SCP-885 is able to manipulate its difference  in pressure to move itself through space. It   00:15:26.040 --> 00:15:29.200 is able to move through fluids,  and pass through porous solids   00:15:29.200 --> 00:15:33.040 such as concrete. Metal and tempered  glass, however, are able to contain it   00:15:33.040 --> 00:15:39.920 or keep it out. Any item fully immersed within  SCP-885 will behave as it would in a vacuum. 00:15:39.920 --> 00:15:46.560 When this item is a living thing, well...the  results are not pretty. Which is unfortunate,   00:15:46.560 --> 00:15:50.920 because SCP-885 is a predator  of sorts, and all living,   00:15:50.920 --> 00:15:57.080 breathing creatures are its ideal prey. It  tracks this prey via atmospheric vibrations,   00:15:57.080 --> 00:16:01.760 and once it has found a target, the cloud  will surround it. The creature can try to run,   00:16:01.760 --> 00:16:07.400 but once it is in the clutches of  SCP-885, it is already far too late. 00:16:07.400 --> 00:16:12.160 Once the prey is surrounded, SCP-885  will extract all fluids and gasses   00:16:12.160 --> 00:16:17.120 via negative pressure, and the victim  will perish from hypoxia and ebullism. 00:16:17.120 --> 00:16:21.880 In layman's terms, the lack of oxygen, and the  formation of bubbles in bodily fluids due to   00:16:21.880 --> 00:16:27.360 decreased environmental pressure, respectively.  Should its intended prey manage to escape,   00:16:27.360 --> 00:16:33.320 SCP-885 will chase after them and hunt  them down. It can move at up to 12 m/s   00:16:33.320 --> 00:16:38.520 in a standard atmosphere, though it is a bit  slower in denser air. Most prey that attempt   00:16:38.520 --> 00:16:45.720 to escape are...unsuccessful. Once the prey  is dead, SCP-885 will lose interest. It is   00:16:45.720 --> 00:16:51.400 uncertain whether it feeds on the prey in any  way, or if it just kills for entertainment.   00:16:51.400 --> 00:16:55.480 I suppose its motives don't matter all  that much in the grand scheme of things. 00:16:55.480 --> 00:17:01.400 Either way, when SCP-885 targets  something, that thing winds up dead. 00:17:01.400 --> 00:17:07.960 SCP-885 is kept within a welded steel container in  an undisclosed Foundation Storage Area. This area   00:17:07.960 --> 00:17:12.840 must be kept at negative pressure at all times, in  order to reduce the possibility of a containment   00:17:12.840 --> 00:17:19.040 breach. Additionally, air movement within the  storage area must be monitored at all times. 00:17:19.040 --> 00:17:22.800 If a containment breach should ever  occur, I shudder to think what might   00:17:22.800 --> 00:17:29.760 happen. SCP-885 is nearly undetectable in an  ordinary atmosphere. Even in liquids it only   00:17:29.760 --> 00:17:33.640 looks like a cluster of bubbles. Frankly,  it's a miracle the Foundation was ever   00:17:33.640 --> 00:17:38.840 able to contain the thing in the first  place. If SCP-885 were ever to get out,   00:17:38.840 --> 00:17:44.200 it would likely take a while for security  personnel to even realize anything had changed. 00:17:44.200 --> 00:17:49.400 For this reason, any unexplained shifts in  the air near SCP-885's enclosure are to be   00:17:49.400 --> 00:17:54.640 reported immediately. Staff have also  been advised to remember that SCP-885   00:17:54.640 --> 00:17:59.000 can use its pressure shifts to hold doors  closed, trapping a victim in a room with   00:17:59.000 --> 00:18:04.120 no escape. Because sound cannot travel in  a vacuum, the victim would not even be able   00:18:04.120 --> 00:18:12.600 to call for help. In the clutches of SCP-885,  just as in space, no one can hear you scream.