Chapter 1 Part 2 - Into the depths below
CHECKPOINT #4
Heavy Containment Zone
MTF TEAM ("Office Workers")
I was still out of it as we made our way to one of the checkpoints. So far I haven't been able to sit down and think, to cope with the situation, well calling it a 'situation' might be underselling it a bit.
I saw a man die, I still had his crusted blood clinging stickily to my body. Some fleshy bits had even managed to find crevices inside my armor. My entire self smelled like a butcher's shop. Several earth-shattering revelations, in just a few hours? My sense of time was at this point nil, it was relatively dark out when we were outside, so probably night now? The people that could be considered allies in this operation were now belligerent, and any chance of escape from this doomed facility seemed impossible.
I didn't know what to do, this entire time I had been operating on instinct, scraping up whatever humor to ease the ridiculousness of the situation. To combat the existential dread. To combat the realization that, simply put, I'm not going home. That most likely this was to be my grave.
Some people, in another situation, may have had a power, something to make them believe that they could stand a chance at the very least.
At this point, I'm just hoping for a miracle, and in a universe where miracles are practically nonexistent? I wasn't particularly hopeful.
I wasn't going back to my construction job, my parents, they'll have to manage without me.
It is my belief that most in my position would have given up at this point. Gods, I've wanted to lay down and rest for some time now.
But I'm not going to, for whatever stubborn reason, I'm not going to lay down and die.
I will see this to the end, I will fight for my right to survive even in a situation where everything is against me, and just maybe through enough effort and luck, I may survive.
Even if monsters only seen in nightmares, beyond most people's comprehension go against me, I'll fight till the end.
Because I have to, if I don't gather up my resolve now, how could I hope to not break when faced with worse?
A bitter chuckle escaped me. Sounded like some sort of shounen protagonist for a second, but well, that didn't make the words any less true.
Henceforth, I resolved to struggle, to rage, until the bitter end.
I resolved to get myself out of here alive, whatever it takes.
We finally reached one of the heavy containment checkpoints. Files stepped forward to flash his keycard on the lock.
Flashing green, an agreeing beep sounded out. Files looked back towards me, gesturing with a sweep of his hand for me to go first.
I nodded and took the first steps into the heavy containment zone.
The corridor that greeted me was a brownish metal color, the ground made of metal caused a small clang to echo each time my black military boot hit the ground. This made any sort of stealth practically impossible, anyone with decent hearing would be able to hear our steps, meaning anyone that possibly could want to ambush us would only need to stand behind whatever door we were going to go through.
I briefly glanced at one of the lights in the ceiling, what would have been eye-searingly bright, became manageable because of the glare protection within the gasmask glass. Still, the instinctive squint, when met with light, remained.
Whenever I opened a door, the sound of a closing door was soon heard behind me, Vincent 1-3, having taken it upon himself to now be the rearguard after my promotion to pointman.
I grimaced, finding the position that I'd previously considered the most dangerous, now my responsibility.
My previous pep talk made it easier to overcome any hesitation I had. I found myself even clearing rooms with confidence, however brittle it may be.
The only difference between the two zones so far has been the material used in construction, concrete in entrance, and some sort of metal in heavy.
The corridors followed the same philosophy as the previous zone. Narrow straight corridors interspersed with rooms where you had 2 or 3 doors going in different directions leading us to randomly choose where to go.
Left, right, straight, straight, there was a monotony in it if it wasn't for the possibility of someone, something standing behind the next door.
Each time it was clear, a sigh of relief.
The entire walk had been so far, quiet. It was only our boots hitting metal that had been making noise, the sound of doors opening or closing. Everyone is seemingly reluctant to converse after what happened, perhaps having their own monologue, or perhaps just focusing on the task.
I found it unbearable, so I spoke up.
"Sir, would Stalker be able to guide us through heavy? NTF should have already gone through most of it right?"
Files standing a meter behind me shifted his head to look at me.
"Possibly, but Stalker will inform us when he's back through the radio." He answered blankly.
"Right. We're supposed to link up with NTF and help them, are we just supposed to randomly search around and hope we find them or…?"
"Pretty much, I tried contacting them earlier with no response." A clipped answer
"Right…" I replied awkwardly.
We continued on.
Eventually as expected, we came across an SCP.
Luckily it didn't immediately try to kill us.
Because it was a cowbell, though you surmised that didn't mean much in the end.
A cowbell if heard when rung, caused paranoia, anxiety, and eventual suicide. If you remembered correctly.
We stumbled across it when we found the next corridor an outlier from the previous ones, a wall had been breached, shattered. The shattered wall opened up to show an almost barren room with the only exceptions being a pedestal with a cowbell on it and a security camera. I remembered this particular SCP from the game, a gimmick SCP to pad out the SCP count in the game. It had no purpose beyond killing you if interacted with. Useless overall, but dangerous.
Walking more carefully, so as not to accidentally jostle the cowbell, the three of us examined the room.
Hidden in a corner was a reinforced door, warily opening it we found a barren room, except for a shelf with a sheet of paper detailing the SCP in question.
Giving it a quick look over, the headline read, SCP-513, Object Class:Euclid. Detailing the security requirements and effects of the SCP. After a brief scan, we discarded the paper as unimportant to our mission.
Within the room, there was another door, taking a peek around we found it leading to different parts of the facility, After a moment's deliberation, we chose to continue exploring this new path.
The experience of walking through endless corridors was bizarrely similar to dungeon crawling. As if I wasn't inside the eldritch universe of SCP and instead playing D&D.
The path leading out of the containment room of SCP-513 seemed to be a shortcut to the deeper parts of the heavy containment zone. The corridors and doors were more heavily reinforced, the side doors leading to more containment rooms when in entrance it led to offices or janitorial closets. Beside each side door, we passed was a sign detailing the SCP number, the object class, and eventual other warnings that needed to be observed. Many I did not recognize from the game, only reinforcing the fact that this was real and not a game limited to whatever the developer could code.
The only SCP I recognized of the ones we passed was SCP-035. And I found myself unconsciously moving a bit faster, not interested in interacting with the body possessing mask.
We still kept mostly quiet, only speaking when necessary. Still, that left me with only my thoughts as company. Not entirely unpleasant, but the situation was, and Stalkers radio silence was getting me worried.
"How long do you think Stalker will take before he's back?" I suddenly asked.
"Shouldn't be this long, added to that all my attempts at contacting NTF have failed." Files uneasily replied.
Vincent piped up from behind "The facility is too quiet as well, we should have heard gunfire, or at least an SCP rampaging, but so far nothing. Might be prudent to-"
A pleasant beep suddenly sounded through the facility interrupting Vincent, the sound of the intercom being activated.
"Control to Nine-Tailed Fox: Camera scan complete, multiple stragglers, their positions are now being broadcasted to you."
"Seems like the lieutenant sent down someone to guide the NTF from the intercom room we passed." Vincent remarked.
"That broadcast might mean we don't have to find the NTF, they might be coming to us instead." Files grunted. "Fingers off the trigger you two, don't want any blue-on-blue incidents here."
"Guess we worried for nothing huh." Vincent said with a slight smile unseen behind his gas mask.
"Oh, don't get too cocky Vince, we've not even encountered a live one yet." Files warned.
"Sir." was his simple reply.
The intercom sparked to life with regularity after that, informing specifically the NTF of the deactivations of tesla gates.
Before long, we found ourselves in a three-split corridor, one containing an elevator with a simple sign saying "SCP-049"
We intended to ignore the elevator and continue our trek, but after Vincent closed the door we just came through, he abruptly stopped mid-way through the corridor.
"You hear that?" Vincent asked, warily looking at the elevator.
"Hear what?" I wondered.
We backed up from the door, arriving at Vincent who was standing in front of the elevator. "I heard something coming from the elevator." Me and Files shared a brief look. "Something inside the vents maybe?" Files offered.
"Maybe…It might be prudent to take a look?" he implored
Files sighed "I'd rather not take on 049 without NTF backup if he's down there but we could take a lookie-loo and eh, assess the situation, see if we got any chance of putting it back in its box."
"Alright, a quick check to see if there is anything we can do down there and after, back to searching for foxes yeah?"
"Acceptable." Files affirmed.
"Seems good." Vincent said and pressed the elevator button, its green light remaining unchanged after pressing it.
I had a bad feeling about this, 049 was down there in the game.
This was not a good idea, I fretted. Opening my mouth, words on my tongue, but just when I was going to speak up, to try and dissuade them, Vincent noticed something.
Vincent frowned "Hey wait a sec, doesn't a green light mean it's in motion?" Glancing back to see our response, Files suddenly turned rigid. Vincent a second later realizing the implication tried to backpedal but-! The elevator doors opened to reveal a medieval plague doctor, garbed in midnight black cloth, with a stark white beak as a face.
"Hm? Oh. Do not be afraid, I am the cure." It said as we stood there stupified, before suddenly launching itself toward Vincent. Vincent, in a testament to his skills, realized he was too close, and tried to bring up his rifle while moving back but once again it was too late. 049 found purchase grabbing Vincents forearm in a vice grip, moving to touch an exposed part of Vincent's wrist, the SCP found a small gap slightly brushing its fingers over his skin, which made our ally suddenly slump like a bag of potatoes, dead. Horrified at our companion's quick death, both my own and my superior's gun had been switched to full auto, laying into 049, and yet it seemed unbothered if irritated. "Stop resisting, I am here to cure you." it tried to soothe.
"Shit, Fall back, fall back!" Files desperately said, and I did not need to get told twice. I sprinted past Files moving to reach the door we were originally supposed to pass through. The plague doctor, reluctant to let the plague victims leave to infect others, moved to stop us. Yet, I managed to open the door, Files barreling past me.
I closed the door behind me to slow 049 momentarily, before starting to follow Files. Even so, I heard 049s calm steps in the distance, spurring me to move, to run. We ran for some time, not bothering to close the doors behind us. Until finally we could run no longer, finding ourselves at a bridge, and as we moved across, dark gas suddenly welled up from the sides.
As the gas welled up, our gas masks were supposed to protect us. For Files, that was not the case, he suddenly started coughing violently, blood pooling out of his mask rapidly from the underside, several streams of red flowing down his neck. Shocked, I moved to drag him to the end of the bridge, to take him out of the gas and leave the room. Reaching the other side of the bridge, I noticed the door required a keycard. Quickly kneeling and rifling through Files pockets for his keycard, finding it. Picking it up, I heard footsteps coming from the direction we ran from. In the doorway stood 049, and with a grim realization, I understood I wouldn't be able to carry Files and escape 049 at the same time.
And yet despite my resolve to live, I choose to try to save my superior. Why? I'm not sure. Flashing the keycard, the door opened revealing another normal corridor, taking Files by both of his arms. I dragged him into the next room, 049 meanwhile was humming a nursery song, halfway across the bridge, not affected by the black gas.
My only choice was to try to close the door before 049 reached it, but it was almost already there, and it seemed unlikely that I was going to make it. Even so, stretching out my arm to reach the control pad, so close- "Woah!?" In the nick of time, a roar rang out through the facility, making me stumble and fall to the ground, 049 missing his swipe for my arm in the process.
"Roargghhh!"
The entire facility shook, and 049 stumbled back, going over the railing and into the depths below. Momentarily a 049-shaped hole formed inside the gas before the dark gas once more reclaimed the space. In the meantime I clumsily made another effort to swipe the keycard, ending up successfully closing the door, causing slight wisps of gas to enter the hallway despite my efforts.
Rattled, I barely registered the intercom message ringing out after the massive roar.
"682 just broke out of Gate B. I want all available helicopters and MTF units at Gate B NOW! I repeat SCP-682 is out of the facility!" Another roar was heard in the background of the intercom "I repeat, all available helicopters and MTF units to Gate B NOW!" The sound of machine gunfire was heard briefly before the transmission ended. Snapping my neck to Files, who had blood running out of his mouth, each breath caused rattling to be heard from his chest.
Crawling forward to him, looking him in the eyes, I could tell he was alive, if severely dazed. Ripping off his gas mask to allow him to breathe, I propped him up against the wall. Detachedly I noticed the goggles of his gasmask were covered in blood from the inside.
"Files, can you hear me?"
He sputtered before raspingly replying "At- At the helicopter, the heli intercom, I was interrupted in my chec- In my check. I must've misse-" he coughed "Must've missed something."
"Hell of a thing to miss." A slight tone of disbelief in my voice.
A tired chuckle "Y-Yeah kid." he answered before spitting out a wad of blood. "My lungs are fucked, I'm a dead man in an hour or two. Go on, looks like the greenhorn is the last man standing in the end, ain't that a bitch huh?"
"I'll carry you, we'll make it out alive Files." I replied, trying to convince myself he'll live, not keen on being left alone in this horror show.
A smirk "Don't you get it?" Files grabbed me by the bicep. "I know what that gas is made of, it's already fucked up my lungs kid, I won't die immediately, but there is nothing a doctor can do. So go!"
You considered leaving, before discarding the idea entirely.
"Yeah, well if we can't leave together, we'll end it together," and to my surprise I meant it.
Files looked up at me in slight confusion before dawning realization.
"My goddamn track record of being wrong strikes again I see, ain't no way you're a greenhorn with balls like that."
"Right..." He paused, "Alright sir, what's the game plan?"
"You'll lean on me, have your sidearm at the ready on your other hand, and we'll do as we've done before, explore the facility until we find the alpha warhead."
A nod was his response
Files put his arm over my shoulder and with our combined might, he stood.
Slowly shambling forward, we left behind a rifle and a bloody gas mask.
Security Chief Franklin
Control Tower
GATE - A
"And the remains of NTF inside?" I said.
"Occupied and unable to reach the warhead."
"Do we have anyone else available inside? Viper, Stalker, Wolverine?"
"Vipers team is wiped out, Stalker was caught in the crossfire when 682 breached Gate B, his team may still be combat effective. Wolverine is not responding to my attempts to reach him, his team might still be alive, however."
"I see, very well, try to contact Stalker, and Wolverines squads and see if they are able to reach the warhead in time before 682 manages to leave the site completely."
"Wilco."
Pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration I found myself looking out from the control tower. At Gate B, black smokestacks of downed helicopters and damaged equipment could be seen. Several helicopters were firing on a massive reptile, security personnel providing support from the rooftops and ground, firing small arms in hopes of stalling the SCP.
A screeching of tires below me grabs my attention momentarily, two M1165 humvees pass below, moving towards GATE-B. Focusing on one of the humvees I could tell they had Wolverines' personal insignia plastered on the vehicle bonnet.
Unconsciously curling my lips in displeasure, knowing now only one team had the potential to arm the warhead. Wolverines' decision-making might have doomed the facility and my career. Any help Wolverine could add to the situation was minimal, garnering only minutes at most. Their efforts were best spent trying to arm the warhead, but doing so is a one-way trip. Perhaps a misunderstanding caused them to leave the facility to engage 682? Not that fighting 682 has a high likely hood of survival, but I estimated at least half of wolverines team would die in the fight if they were lucky. Mhm... Well, a 50 percent chance of survival is higher than 0 percent, nevertheless, they will face repercussions for their incompetence later if they survive.
Turning my gaze back to GATE-B, it was clear the frantic defense was rapidly deteriorating.
Small arms fire was largely ineffective against 682, and what the helicopters had wasn't much more effective. What it was effective at was occupying 682 until the warhead could be detonated, as of now, however, it wasn't armed. And every second it wasn't armed caused more to die. Soon, if unable to arm the warhead a general evacuation order will have to be issued.
This will likely cause the O5s to send in Mobile-Task-Force ("Hammer Down") who would have the equipment needed to contain SCP-682 once more and deal with the aftermath of the nuke.
Even though I'm arguing for the arming of the warhead, I disapprove of the idea in principle.
Detonating a nuke, in the end, is counterproductive to the long-term containment of SCP-682 considering its properties, as 682 will become immune to such a resort after its usage, but the situation necessitated the escalation.
One of my bodyguards took a step forward and said "Chief, we need to move, the site is lost, staying here is too risky, we need to put you in a helicopter and get you out of here stat, Staying here risks being left behind." he urged, again...
"I am aware, and my previous statement stands, we will evacuate when we know for certain that the warhead will detonate, otherwise my leaving will only exacerbate the situation for the worse, which is unacceptable." was my calm reply.
"As you say, sir." The bodyguard reluctantly accepted and stepped back.
I locked my hands behind my back, my glasses reflecting the various fires dotting the facility. For now, I could do nothing but observe.
Site-19
Heavy Containment Zone
MTF Team ("Office Workers")
Remaining personnel - 1-1, 1-5.
Status - 1-1, Poisoned, Dying.
Status - 1-2 KIA, Cause of Death, Bullet to the throat.
Status - 1-3 KIA, Cause of Death, SCP-049.
Status - 1-4 KIA, Cause of Death, Bullet to the hindbrain.
Status - 1-5 Winded, Bruised.
Both of you were getting tired, there was no doubt. Files was flagging, at most he had half an hour in him before he expired, he said so himself.
It was foolish to think that you'd be able to find the warhead running around aimlessly, but in the end, I didn't regret the decision.
We'd passed a couple of more containment rooms, and from one, we heard sobbing, causing us to steer clear of it, knowing keenly what it meant. The intercom had sparked to life a couple of times during our search, complaining about the main character, the D-Class, advising and then threatening him to report to a security checkpoint, the threats eventually worsened until he was slated for termination.
The intercom also advised any foundation personnel to ensure the arming of the nuke, which we were already searching for.
Time was running out and the situation was looking grimmer by the second.
As we continued our stumble through the facility. The intercom finally delivered some good but far too late news for it to be of significance.
"SCP-173 Contained successfully by Foxtrot unit 1."
"There's a couple of NTF still in light containment?" Files muttered groggily.
"They're not going to make it out if we detonate the nuke." I stated.
"They know the risk of the job, the fanatics." My companion dismissed, silencing my concerns.
As we entered the next room, we managed to move into the middle before a door sliding open to my left caught my attention.
To my surprise, at the threshold of the door stood a man garbed in a full orange jumpsuit. A gasmask on his face, various paraphernalia bulging out of his pockets. In his hand, was a handheld navigator directly pointed towards the both of us.
Advancing quickly towards us, I had to restrain Files from shooting him with his secondary.
Stopping until he was 1 meter in front of the fake and the soldier, the renegade D-class simply stated "I'm D-9341, If you move through the door I came from, and take a right, then left, then right twice you will arrive at the elevator which will take you down to the warhead."
The D-class didn't seem to mind Files glare, nor did he react to my baffled expression. Remaining passive.
This was the main character of the game, the person who could come back after death, who re-lived this day countless times until he managed to escape and end the time loop.
I took a leap of faith and trusted him, not asking any questions.
"Alright, we'll be moving right away." at this Files looked at me like I'd grown a second head, the disapproval wasn't voiced in the end, to my surprise.
A nod was the response before the D-Class moved to leave, going through the door we came from, at a slightly more hurried pace than previously exhibited.
When the door closed, Files and I locked eyes, both determined to see this through.
We moved as quickly as we could, the finish line was so close now.
We stood before the elevator, waiting for it to arrive.
When it did, we moved inside, and as the elevator doors closed, it reminded me of the beginning of our adventure into site-19. Just as we started with going down an elevator, we will now finish it by doing it once more.
With a cheerful ping, the elevator doors opened to reveal a missile silo, red warning lights surrounded it in a circle. We moved across the catwalk, and into the control room. In the control center, a large keyboard console was found.
Moving closer, blinking buttons and lights greeted us. Even so, my eyes were immediately drawn to the startlingly large red button on the console surrounded by protective glass, indicating where to press to arm the missile. I'd laugh at the cliche, but for some reason I found my usual humor gone.
There was an on-and-off switch to the side, before taking the handle to put the switch to the correct position I placed Files down on the floor, he was at this point mostly gone, delirious, mumbling.
I dragged the switch to the 'ON' position, making the glass cover, covering the red button, open. It also caused the monitor display to start showing a bright green 'READY'. Similar to the game yet not, the consequence of reality I reckoned.
I hesitated, an involuntary spasm going through the arm seeking to press the button. Glancing to the left of me, Files breathing was slowing, the rattles of damaged lungs the only sound in the silence.
Bizarrely, it caused my resolve to strengthen, and a decision was made.
A nervous exhale was heard from a man too young to die and yet still, persisted in slowly pressing down the crimson button, a sudden beep confirmed the request. It was done.
The monitor flashed several words, only some of them I comprehended.
Requesting clearance…
Requesting clearance…
Requesting clearance…
Request granted by Security Chief Franklin…
Starting sequence… Standby…
Starting sequence… Standby…
Starting sequence… Standby…
Sequence started…
Protocol "Call down the thunder, Reap the whirlwind." initiated.
An ear-piercing alarm started to ring out through the facility.
The intercom blasted alive,
"We're detonating the Alpha Warheads in T-minus 90 seconds. All personnel are advised to board the nearest helicopter or enter the nearest blast shelter immediately."
I sat down on the chair that was meant to be for whoever was supposed to operate the control console. Looking down, I discovered Files staring unerringly at me.
It seemed when the alarm started to blare he recovered some clarity.
Even so, even over the ear-piercing scream of the nuclear alarm, I found myself being able to hear him without complication.
"End of the line kid." He proclaimed weakly.
"T-minus 70 seconds."
"I'm scared." I admitted.
He seemed to process my statement before replying, and when he did no sign of his previous weakness was showing, if anything he seemed healthier, more content.
"You know, I think something the foundation forgets, is that every soldier, who fights the good fight starts out as human. In all the chaos, in misery, some are lost, some are alive but dead in mind, and some lose their body, sacrificing themselves for the good of others. In the end, I think the foundation forgets that we're all just kids, afraid of the dark. Even the most battle-hardened soldier wants to cry when met with horror."
"T-minus 35 seconds."
"You know, the motto of the foundation is, we die in the dark so you may live in the light. That encapsulates a lot of the actions the foundation takes, sacrifice. This ephemeral sacrifice comes in different shades for everyone. The shade of freedom, memory, and life. I've already sacrificed two, now it is my time to sacrifice my third and final shade. Now you and I find ourselves doing the same as so many heroes did before us, in a facility far below the ground, in a dark room with an extremely dangerous object close, we stand ready to sacrifice ourselves to save others. We may be scared, but we do what needs to be done, our duty."
"For you see,"
"T-minus 15 seconds."
"Even though our demise is dark,"
"T-minus 10 seconds."
"Even though all the light we have around us is dim."
"T-minus 5 seconds."
"Our sacrifice will be Bright!"
"T-minus 0 seconds."
…
A split second of overwhelming light, a split second of pain unimaginable, and then,
Silence.
AN:This marks the end of the prologue, an interlude will follow, after that a new chapter. Don't worry the story will continue. The entire premise will be revealed, eventually. Hopefully, the next 'real' chapter will fix any confusion you may have. Thank you for reading.
Now onto reviews,
Uselesskhan69 - Thank you.
Arclight001 - Thank you, I'm aware of the first and second-person problem, there is a reason for it, it was not intentional, and if I eventually crosspost this story it may be fixed.
ReGunner - Thank you, I appreciate your enthusiasm a lot. We've just finished the prologue, and the story may have developed in a way that surprised you, my best advice is to wait and see. Your spacebattles advice has merit but right now I'm just testing the waters a bit with this fic. I use google docs to write, just that fanfiction net in particular likes to be difficult.
That is all.