It took some turns, but finally they reached the entrance of the administration sector of the facility. The entire facility itself was huge, so 1-1 wouldn't be surprised if the admin offices was big as well. From the sheer size of the facility, he guessed there would be at least 80 to 120 people working here, and that was just the ones on-site. No doubt close to a third of that number had their own little cubicle in admin offices. With the responsibility of protecting humanity from the anomalous, most people forget just how bureaucratic the Foundation is. For every anomaly contained, there is at least a dozen papers detailing its containment procedures, addendums, research results and so on. 1-1 understood the importance of filing paperwork is just as much as the action-sided part of containment. He saw this much when he finally lead his fireteam through the checkpoint, going through the lobby and seeing the wide open hall full of just desks and computers.

This hall was just one of a few scattered throughout the sector. This was not the place they were here for however. Their objective lie in the director's office. Or perhaps its armoury. 1-1 and his team walked briskly through the rows of shut down computers. The place was incredibly eerie, as the lights were still on and all the electrical appliances still hummed with power coursing through them. This, coupled with the few dead bodies scattered throughout the place made it unnerving. It was clear what happened, a containment breach. 1-1 had enough of the place and wanted to be out of there in a jiffy. However, 1-3 had something else in mind.

"Sarge! Hold on!"

1-1 faced his subordinate. "What is it? We don't have all day here."

"One of the computers here is still logged on. I can get more info out of this place."

"And for what? We'll learn more once we reach the Director's office."

"I'm just thinking we should find out more about what we're getting ourselves into."

1-1 scoffed. "We DO know what we're getting ourselves into. It's nothing we haven't faced before. Besides, we've done good with what we have in the 3 hours that have passed. Now, we will move on. No more stopping." He ordered.

1-3 lowered his head with defeat, and followed the Team Leader. 1-1 gestured for the team to move on, but again, one of his other teammates stopped him. This time, it was a Bibliographer.

2-1 jogged to the front next to 1-1 and lowered his voice. "Sergeant, I don't know who is doing it, or even how they're doing it. All I know is we're being watched. There's a presence here, and they are aware of us."

1-1 panned his view over the cubicles. He could see nothing wrong. "Are you sure? I can't see anything. Our S-Navs picked up no dust throughout our walk here…"

"Im sure of it. Whatever is hiding itself is doing a damn good job at it. I myself thought what I felt was a mistake, but it wasn't." 2-1 confirmed.

1-1 nodded. He didn't understand much about the esoteric methods Sigma-3 used. Yet, he'd experienced firsthand what they could do, so he knew more than to doubt them. 1-1 gestured to the rest of the team to stay close and be quiet. If there was anything waiting for them, they would not be caught unawares. All of the team nodded in affirmation and consciously raised their rifles higher to allow for a quicker shot should a target present itself. He saw the Serpents murmur amongst each other, a soft blue glow emitting around the entire team, possibly some kind of protection spell. Good. Hopefully it'll work, unlike in Amsterdam. Much more faster this time, they inched closer to the glass door leading to the main hallway of the sector. Suddenly, one of the soldiers, 1-4, cried out.

"Movement, 10 o'clock, behind the pillar!"

All of the fireteam skidded to a halt. Weapons sighted, they—save 1-2 and 2-1—turned to their left, the other two covering the right. They saw nothing, no movement at all. But a quick gesture from 2-2 confirmed 1-4's callout. 2-2 reported silently, "Confirmed, unknown presence behind the pillar." The pillar was but two dozen metres to their northwest. The four fireteam members nervously held their guns up, waiting for any kind of movement to emerge from the shadow of the pillar. Whatever it was, if it tries anything, it will be met with over a hundred rounds of 5.56 and 7.62, straight silver-infused lead and depleted uranium, capable of potentially turning it into Swiss cheese. 1-1 was unsure even that would be enough. But they fought worse with less. Almost as if it somehow realised the situation it was in, the figure stepped out into view of the fireteam. Its appearance only further unsettled the men aiming at it.

It was a giant, easily about two-and-a-half metres tall, bedecked in a peculiar armour covered with an even stranger pattern of colours. How it managed to stay hidden behind the pillar was of question. In its left hand, it held a spear made for its abnormal size, and 1-1 could see sparks of electricity emanating from it. In its right, it gripped a large, boxy pistol, chambered in a calibre large enough that 1-1 surmised could blow a head clean off in one shot. More than his weapons, the giant itself was imposing, encasing itself in an aura of dread. The fireteam couldn't shake off the sense of foreboding coming off from this…. thing. The feeling that it could massacre all six of the fireteam in but a mere minute. That it would not consider the task itself in any way difficult, only necessary. And yet— it stood there. Unmoving, still as a statue. It had not raised its weapons in any threatening way. It had not spoken or addressed the men. It didn't even seem to be breathing. The slow hum of the armour it wore was the only indication that it was alive.

This feeling of terror encapsulated the fireteam for just a moment however. They froze at the sight, sure. But these are Foundation operatives. Experienced soldiers who've faced horrors beyond human comprehension. The best of the best their world could offer in the fight against the anomalous. Their hearts steeled and minds hardened, the trance they were in lasted no more but a second. 1-1 gripped his rifle tighter, and shouted with intensity. "DROP YOUR FUCKING WEAPONS!"

The other team members were slightly startled with his tone, but they understood the seriousness of the incident. In hindsight, telling a giant to disarm itself was not the smartest thing to do. The giant still did not move. A shout from 1-1's right startled him. "Shit!" The voice of 2-1 sounded, slightly shaky. Around him, the others on the fireteam also expressed some form of shock, which prompted 1-1 to finally turn to his surroundings. Then, he understood the source of the surprise.

They were surrounded. Around them were four more of the giants, some wielding different kinds of weapons. How the hell did they sneak up on us? They seemed content to just stare them down for now, but 1-1 feared any attack would come should the team attempt to run away. Years of experience didn't allow him to underestimate his foes. For all their size, he had an innate feeling that they were faster than they looked. Even if the team got through the doors, He was certain they'd be followed quick. He was not confident that they could outrun the giants. Fuck, what should I do here?.. The rest of the fireteam was anxious, getting jittery, fingers sweaty and mere centimetres away from pulling the trigger. He was worried that a firefight might occur any second. One that would certainly end in their deaths. He was just about to shout orders to the team when one of the giants spoke.

"All of you, stand down." It uttered, the one with more golden ornaments embellishing its armour. The voice was loud, yet effortlessly so. It had a slight—almost unnoticeable—crackle, like coming out of a microphone, but even then 1-1 figured the speakers did not amplify the voice that much. The fireteam did not budge with that order. Though, he could see the team was more calm now, having overcome the initial shock and instead replacing it with laser focus towards the assailants. 1-1 pondered on the order, but decided that it was probably for the best that they comply for now. He slowly lowered his rifle to low ready. 1-1 could see the faces of his comrades in quiet contemplation, whether to stand down or not. The rest of team didn't waver immediately, but eventually one by one they all lowered their rifles in the face of the giants. In a—presumably—gesture of good faith, the giants holstered their weapons as well and slowly started approaching until one of them, the lead giant, was half a metre away from the fireteam. "You are guardsmen? Of the Imperium?" The lead giant asked.

—

The Sergeant stared at the mortals in front. From his analysis, he assumed the answer to that question would be confusion and denial. These people didn't look like they hailed from any recognisable world in the Imperium. They very well could be a backwater regiment in some far off planet but even so, they would have at least heard of stories and recognised the vaunted Astartes standing before them. In every planet the Sergeant has been to, the populace of the planet knew of the existence of Space Marines and the reputation that precedes them. For these mortals to be unknowing of them is peculiar, yet not entirely unexpected.

Then, there's the matter of the mortals themselves. Their equipment was unusual, almost foreign, but not at all seeming alien. In a sense, it looked almost archaic. They didn't wear standard flak armour, but a weird cloth vest with pouches and pockets. In their arms weren't lasguns of any sort, but bizarre-looking autoguns that the Sergeant wasn't sure he could find in any hive city in the galaxy. Perhaps a forgeworld special then. Their helmets also had a complicated piece of equipment fixed onto it that he assumed must be an equivalent to night vision lenses. All in all, they certainly didn't seem to belong here. Or maybe it was the Astartes who didn't?

"What? Imperium?" The answer came from the expected leader. The man shuffled on his feet slightly when the Sergeant stayed silent. "To answer your question, we aren't 'guardsmen'. We're soldiers. And not of the…. Imperium, but of the SCP Foundation. You've heard of the Foundation?"

The Foundation. He had seen evidence of this Foundation before. On the walls, on the doors, sometimes on the ceilings, the recognisable stamp of three arrows and a circle was displayed practically everywhere in this facility. This was the symbol of the Foundation. The same symbol proudly etched into every one of the team's shoulders. Yet he had not heard of this Foundation before. He did not know what this Foundation is, either. A Xeno-aligned miniature empire serving the interests of others? The Tau exist after all, which have plenty of humans under its control. A splinter government, working for its own survival separate of the Imperium, perhaps even opposing it? He had heard of reports about a 'Severan Dominate' operating in Segmentum Obscurus, and so it is not improbable for it to happen again. Perhaps these men may even be Chaos cultists, though it is a far fetched idea, primarily because there is no taint of the Great Enemy amongst them. All in all, there were many assumptions to be made in regards of the men in front of him. But, the Sergeant figured he should get the answer straight from the leader. "What exactly is this… SCP Foundation?"

The leader pondered a moment before answering. "The SCP stands for secure, contain, protect. It's an organisation dedicated to, well, securing, containing and protecting anomalies. We keep humanity safe from the dangers of the unknown by making sure it stays sealed away. To quote our Administrator, we die in the dark, so they can live in the light."

Irfan chuckled slowly at the last statement, before remarking. "A grand vision, especially if undertaken by the likes of mortals such as you." He said with a sarcastic tone, though the Sergeant could sense a hint of respect in the jab.

The Sergeant panned towards his other squadmates slightly, before turning back and saying. "It is a just goal, even if infeasible. You soldiers serve this Foundation dutifully, then. Is it part of the Imperium?"

The leader frowned a bit, before answering. "No, we are not part of any Imperium. The Foundation prides itself on its independence in conducting its own operations. We answer to no government, the only authority is our own. It is the best way for us to function."

The Sergeant nodded, while Harith added as well. "That I agree with. For humanity's sake, some institutions don't need strings attached that will hamper them from carrying out their duties. " The Sergeant extended a hand in greeting. "I am Sergeant Imran of the Crescent Spears chapter, Third Company, Third Squadron. In the name of the Emperor and the Primarch, I greet you."

The leader walked towards the Sergeant and clasped his hand. "Sergeant Roland Callaway, Mobile Task Force Zeta-9, Seventh Joint Fireteam, callsign 1-1. Good to meet you." They shook hands, and the Sergeant was careful not to crush the man's palm. "I would like to learn more of your Foundation later, would you mind?"

1-1 answered. "Of course, once all of this is done and over with. What're you guys here for anyways?"

"That is classified. However, it seems we share the same destination. I hope no conflict arise from any misunderstandings." The Sergeant added with a touch of amusement in his voice. 1-1 was not amused by the idea of fighting two-and-a-half metre tall giants. When you put it like that, there's bound to be conflict. Only one way to find out. "Well, let's get going then."

—

The rooms around them bore a striking resemblance to the barracks at Navarro, if only a bit more expensive. For all the faults of the Foundation, treating their workers poorly was not one of them. Even the basic Level-1 rooms had quite a few luxuries, like a coffee machine and a mini fridge. If you're going to have your employees deal with strange eldritch abominations, they should have a few comforts to keep their minds at ease. Just exactly how these guys got their money was unclear however. Most likely from other countries. Helson supposed it would make sense. These guys aren't a holdout of some remnant government forced to seek refuge in secluded air bases and oil rigs. They probably had good funding before the war broke out. Hell, maybe they even had continued funding after the war! He made a note to himself to try smuggle out some stuff when they're finally done, but now they have to search for something.

They reached the administrative offices alright, except for the guys that didn't make it. They could go through the checkpoint just fine, but the scientist—Bob was his name—suggested looking through personnel quarters first, to find the personal room of the director. Helson agreed with this suggestion, primarily because he believed it was the simpler option to access the information needed. Also because they could get some well-earned rest after searching for it. At first, he thought they should split up to cover more ground. One power armour trooper and two soldiers can search the quarters while the rest go into the offices. However, his men disagreed on account of the variety of anomalies loose inside the facility, citing that they were safer together and that they shouldn't take the risk. Helson took their advice, and opted for the group to go to the personnel quarters first. And so here they are, walking through zigzags of bedrooms and lounges to find the Site Director's room.

They were close now, he could sense it. And also by the fact that there was a sign that read 'ADMINISTRATIVE PERSONNEL ONLY' next to a locked door. Thankfully the keycard they held was high-enough clearance to open the door. After a quick scan, the keycard reader beeped and the door slid open with a louder-than-usual scrape of metal. Odd. Helson thought. One by one, the team filtered through the doorway whilst making sure to watch every corner. It pays to be prepared, especially after what happened just before. The door opened to a fork, with the right side leading to the director's office, their destination. They walked slow and with their guns up, fearful or whatever may pop up in their faces. They passed the lounge for the area, and were about to pass a gym when something appeared from behind the corner in front of them.

It was a strange little…. thing. Helson couldn't accurately describe it. A teardrop of sorts? A moving teardrop that is. With a shade that's actually blue, like a teardrop. Only…. with an eye. A big humanlike eye staring down the team. It scuttled out of the corner, and simply held a gaze towards them. Then suddenly, just as fast as it appeared, it turned around and went back to where it was from. Helson paused for a moment. Should I follow it? Looks harmless enough. The scientist tapped his shoulder, and whispered. "We should follow it, see where it goes." Helson turned to his team and saw no sign of disagreement from them. Though they looked uneasy and worried of what might come. He made the decision. "Let's go, we're following it. Keep your eyes peeled." He started walking in the direction that the teardrop took and soon his men followed.

When they turned the first corner, they saw that the teardrop was waiting for them. Once it realised they were following it, it quickly dashed off to another corner. The team followed its lead and turned every nook and cranny it took, all the while being careful with their surroundings. After a while, the thing stopped moving in the middle of a hallway, and just sat in place waiting for the team. Helson looked around at where they were. The director's office! They were right in front of it now. Seemed like the teardrop knew where they wanted to go. Helson was just about to tell the scientist to open it when he heard a most curious noise emanating from nearby.

Something else emerged from the corners of the corridor. Multiple things. People. People brandishing guns that were now pointed at the team. The tin cans wasted no time covering the flanks of the expedition, revving up their miniguns in preparation for a nasty firefight. Helson clenched his teeth and aimed his plasma pistol towards a particularly towering figure in their own version of power armour. Thoughts started racing through his mind. Tactics, plans to fallback, words to utter. No doubt everyone there was tense, and he dreaded a firefight right now, especially in these tight spaces. He carefully analysed the gear of his could-be adversaries. They handled rifles not with strange geometric shapes, but looked to function the same way as regular rifles. Their armour seemed advanced, enough so that the Enclave would be technologically challenged by them. But most of all were their visages. They were tired. Their eyes looked focused and intense but strained as well. Some were even starting to grow beards. Their faces told of great difficulty and sadness, one where they now still suffer from. These men had enough already, and Helson was worried that would mean they wanted a fast end to this standoff. Yet for now, there was no gunshot. Not one person wanted to fire first, it was better for them to talk and get answers instead.

—

"Weapons down" Reinhardt heard the officer—he assumed it was an officer—order them. Still, they didn't move a muscle, Reinhardt included. The Spartan eyed the officer's weapon intently, utterly intrigued by the design, yet still managing to focus on the standoff at hand. "Listen, we lower our guns, you lower yours. Alright?" The officer reasoned with them. They didn't want a gunfight anyway, so Reinhardt answered. "Alright."

Slowly, the team in the middle of the hallway lowered their firearms. The marines followed suit, albeit with an even slower pace. Finally, they relaxed the grip around their weapons, and started getting closer. The officer walked nearer to Reinhardt, who asked a question once he was face-to-face. "You're the one in charge?" The officer replied. "Of the team? Yes. Of the place? No. Captain Helson Joric, Enclave." He offered a handshake. Reinhardt took it with calm. "Chief Petty Officer Reinhardt-531, United Nations Space Command."

Helson blinked his eyes. "Did I hear that right? Space command? What the hell is that?"

Reinhardt pouted his face a bit. "The commanding agency responsible for interplanetary operations, officially under the control of the United Earth Government."

Helson reacted with a blank stare. "You came here from space? Really?"

"Not quite. We were exploring a different facility, but our ship was attacked by the Covenant. We were left stranded on the facility and came across a strange door that stood out from others. Under chase ourselves, we took out chances through the door and ended up in here. We are also as equally confused as you are about this situation."

Helson took a moment to process what the man said. Things were getting stranger every minute. Now, they encountered spacemen who, from the story, appeared from another reality, where they were originally fighting 'the Covenant', whatever that was. He was not quick to scoff at such an idea. Perhaps he was just a bit open-minded, but he didn't want to doubt the validity of the man's statement, for he had just encountered strange things before this.

Taking advantage of the silence, Reinhardt asked Helson a question of his own. "What is the Enclave? Is it the government of this planet?"

To that, Helson had a reply. "It is one of several. We're the remnants of the United States Government seeking to reclaim the lands that once belonged to us. After a nuclear war ravaged the world, we have been biding our time to rebuild and restore the nation again. Hey, you spoke of a United Earth Government, right?"

Reinhardt nodded. "I see some parallels. The UEG and the UNSC has been embroiled with conflict against the Covenant for a few years, and we've been facing terrible loses." Inwardly, his mind started to race. This 'United States' sounded a bit similar to a lot of Insurrectionist governments that popped up before. Perhaps a lost colony? That'll explain the level of confusion these men exhibit from their first contact with the UNSC.

Helson shaked his head. "A shame. Maybe we'll find something to help you in here." He panned his head towards the team, now mingling with the rest of the otherworlders. This encounter only led to more questions. While many could be answered by Reinhardt, he supposed the director's office would hold the most important ones.

—

Boppa doo. Can't believe I put this on the backburner for so long.
Sorry for the wait. Not only did I have to focus for SPM, but after it ended I had to go on pilgrimage as well. I'm literally Lorgar lmao

I'll try to push out more often now, since I've got nothing better to do.

Decided NOT to make the Foundation guys know about warhammer. I just thought it'd be better for there to be confusion rather than familiarity between literal otherworldly factions.

Crescent Spear guys are all primaris, Reinhardt is a Spartan-3 and Helson is west coast Enclave. For the SCP dudes, i made my own headcanon so it'd be easier for me to think of whatever.

Once again, sorry to my 15 loyal followers.