The blood-red moon had faded into a bruised dawn by the time Ace and Mai returned to the city's fringes, the van's autonav system gliding them silently through streets still slick with last night's rain. Mai had slept fitfully in the safehouse—a cramped, concrete-walled bolthole Ace kept stashed for emergencies—her wounds bandaged but her spirit restless. Ace, meanwhile, hadn't slept at all. Her mind churned with the warehouse fight, the girl with violet eyes, and Bright's offer, each piece a shard of a puzzle she couldn't yet assemble. The comm device sat on the table beside her, its faint static hum a tether to the unknown she'd agreed to chase.
Morning arrived with a gray pallor, the sky heavy with clouds that smothered the sun's weak rays. Ace stood at the safehouse window, her long, lush black hair cascading over her shoulders, catching the dim light in a glossy sheen. Her European features—sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, dark eyes that glinted like polished obsidian—were set in a mask of quiet focus as she watched the street below. The city stirred slowly, its neon veins dimming as the day crept in, but the shadows never truly left. They lingered in corners, in the hollows of buildings, waiting.
Mai emerged from the back room, her silver hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her jacket patched with duct tape where demon claws had shredded it. She moved stiffly, favoring her left side, but her gaze was steady as she joined Ace at the window. "You didn't sleep," she said, not a question.
"Had better things to do," Ace replied, her smirk faint but present. "Like figuring out what Bright's playing at."
Mai snorted, crossing her arms. "You think he's trouble?"
"He's trouble," Ace said, turning to face her. "But the kind I can handle. Question is, what's he dragging us into next?"
The comm crackled to life before Mai could answer, Bright's voice spilling out with its usual mix of cheer and chaos. "Rise and shine, ladies! Hope you're rested, because I've got a field trip planned. Site-19, today, noon sharp. Got a new contract brewing, and I'd rather not explain it over this thing—too many ears, you know? Transport's on its way. Don't keep me waiting."
The line cut off, leaving a silence that felt heavier than before. Mai raised an eyebrow. "Site-19?"
"Sounds like their home turf," Ace said, grabbing her katanas from the table and strapping them across her back. The seals glowed faintly as her fingers brushed them, a quiet hum of readiness. "Guess we're going deeper down the rabbit hole."
Mai sighed, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Fine. But if this goes sideways, I'm blaming you."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Ace shot back, her smirk widening as she tossed Mai a spare jacket. "Let's move."
The transport arrived precisely at 11:30—a black SUV this time, its tinted windows reflecting the gray sky like mirrors. No driver, just the same eerie autonav system that guided it through the city's maze with surgical precision. Ace and Mai climbed in, the leather seats cold against their skin, and the vehicle hummed to life, peeling out toward an unknown destination. The dashboard screen flickered, displaying a cryptic message: Destination: Site-19. ETA: 47 minutes. Clearance: Provisional.
The ride was silent save for the engine's low growl and the occasional ping of the nav system. Ace watched the city give way to sprawling suburbs, then to desolate highways flanked by skeletal trees and abandoned gas stations. Mai fidgeted beside her, her fingers tracing the edge of her bandage. "You trust this guy?" she asked finally, her voice low.
"Don't need to trust him," Ace said, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Just need to know he's useful. So far, he's delivering."
Mai huffed but didn't argue. The SUV veered off the highway onto a narrow, unmarked road that wound through dense forest, the trees looming like sentinels under the overcast sky. The air grew heavier, charged with a strange static that prickled Ace's skin. She felt it in her bones—a presence, vast and unseen, watching.
The road ended at a chain-link gate topped with razor wire, flanked by concrete guard towers that stood silent and empty. The gate slid open without a sound, and the SUV rolled into a sprawling complex that seemed to materialize from the mist. Site-19 was a fortress of brutalist architecture—gray slabs of concrete stacked into buildings that stretched across the landscape, their windows dark and unblinking. Towers rose at intervals, bristling with antennas and cameras, while floodlights cast harsh beams across the grounds, even in daylight. The air buzzed with a low, omnipresent hum, like the heartbeat of some colossal machine.
The SUV stopped at a checkpoint, where a figure in a black uniform waved them through without a word. Ace's hand rested on her katana hilt, her instincts on edge, but she kept her smirk in place. "Cozy," she muttered.
"Looks like a prison," Mai said, her voice tight.
"Or a cage," Ace replied, stepping out as the doors unlocked. The air was cold, sharp with the scent of metal and ozone, and the ground vibrated faintly beneath her boots. She adjusted her swords, their weight a comfort, and followed Mai toward a towering entrance marked with a simple logo: a circle bisected by three arrows, pointing inward.
Bright waited just inside, his trench coat swapped for a lab coat that hung off his frame like a second skin. The ruby pendant still gleamed at his throat, pulsing faintly as he grinned at them. "Welcome to Site-19, ladies! Biggest little containment facility this side of nowhere. Don't mind the décor—function over form, you know?"
Ace scanned the lobby—a cavernous space of polished concrete and steel, lit by harsh fluorescents that buzzed overhead. Guards in tactical gear stood at intervals, their faces obscured by visors, while researchers in white coats hurried past, clutching tablets and murmuring in clipped tones. The air felt thick, layered with an undercurrent of tension she couldn't quite place.
"Nice place," she said dryly. "You live here?"
"More like I haunt it," Bright quipped, motioning them to follow. "Come on, contract's waiting. Let's talk somewhere less... public."
He led them through a maze of corridors, each one identical—gray walls, numbered doors, the occasional warning sign in red: Authorized Personnel Only or Containment Breach Protocols in Effect. The hum grew louder, a constant drone that burrowed into Ace's skull, and she caught flashes of strangeness through open doors: a room filled with glowing jars, a corridor sealed with blast doors, a figure in a hazmat suit scribbling furiously at a whiteboard covered in incomprehensible symbols.
Mai stayed close, her eyes darting to every corner. "What do you keep here?" she asked, her voice hushed.
"Everything," Bright said over his shoulder. "And nothing. Depends on the day."
They reached a small office tucked at the end of a hall, its door marked Dr. J. Bright, Senior Researcher. Inside, the space was a chaotic contrast to the sterile corridors—piles of papers teetered on a desk, a corkboard bristled with pinned notes and photos, and a coffee mug sat precariously on a stack of files, its contents long cold. A single window overlooked the compound, the glass reinforced with steel mesh.
Bright flopped into a chair behind the desk, gesturing to two seats opposite. "Sit, sit. Let's get to the good stuff."
Ace remained standing, arms crossed, her katanas a silent threat at her back. Mai sat, her posture stiff, and fixed Bright with a wary stare. "You said a new contract," Ace said, cutting to the chase. "What's the job?"
Bright's grin widened, and he pulled a file from the chaos on his desk, its cover stamped CLASSIFIED in bold red. "Straight to business—love that about you. Alright, here's the pitch. SCP-—the big ugly from Harrow's End—is still out there, and it's pissed. You rattled its cage last night, but it's not done. We've got new intel: it's moving, fast, and it's leaving a trail of bodies and those green-glowy symbols you're so fond of."
Ace's eyes narrowed, her mind flashing to the warehouse, the chains, the entity's collapse. "Thought you said it was contained."
"Thought it was," Bright admitted, leaning back. "Turns out it's slipperier than we figured. Regenerative, adaptive, and—here's the fun part—tied to something we're calling SCP-1. A secondary anomaly, possibly sentient, possibly pulling the strings. Sound familiar?"
Mai shifted, her gaze flicking to Ace. "The girl," she murmured.
Bright's eyebrow arched, but he didn't press. "Maybe. We don't know yet. What we do know is this: SCP- hit a Foundation outpost last night—small crew, remote location. Wiped it out. Left this." He slid a photo across the desk: a concrete wall etched with glowing symbols, identical to those from Harrow's End, surrounded by bloodstains and twisted metal.
Ace studied it, her smirk fading. "It's hunting you now."
"Us," Bright corrected, pointing between them. "You're on its radar too, Ace. That warehouse stunt? It's not a coincidence. Whatever's driving this thing, it's got a grudge, and you're part of the picture."
Mai tensed, her hands balling into fists. "So you're dragging her into your mess?"
Bright held up a hand. "She's already in it, silver-hair. I'm just offering a way to fight back—with backup this time. Here's the contract: track SCP-, terminate it, and—if you can—find SCP-1. Bring it in alive, if possible. Dead works too, but alive's worth a bonus."
Ace tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting. "What's the pay?"
"Double last time," Bright said, his tone smooth. "Plus gear—custom stuff, your specs. And intel. You want that violet-eyed girl? We'll dig deeper. Got a team scouring archives as we speak."
Mai leaned forward, her voice sharp. "And if it's a trap? You're not exactly screaming trustworthy."
Bright laughed, a wild, jagged sound. "Fair! Look, I'm a bastard—I'll own that. But I'm a bastard who needs this thing dead, and Ace is the best shot I've got. No traps, no leashes. You do this your way, and we clean up the mess."
Ace tapped a finger against her arm, weighing the offer. The thrill of the hunt sang in her blood, a familiar melody she couldn't ignore, and the promise of answers—about the girl, the symbols, the shadows tying it all together—was a hook she couldn't resist. But Site-19's sterile walls and Bright's chaotic grin screamed danger, and she wasn't blind to the risks.
"What's the catch this time?" she asked, her voice low.
Bright's grin softened, his eyes sharpening. "Catch is, this thing's not just smart—it's evolving. Last sighting, it was bigger, faster, sprouting new tricks. Tentacles, acid spit, the works. And SCP-1? Could be anywhere—watching, waiting. You'll be on its turf, and it's got a head start."
Ace's smirk returned, slow and dangerous. "Sounds like my kind of odds."
Bright clapped his hands, the sound echoing in the cramped office. "Knew I picked the right psycho! Alright, you're in. Let's get you geared up."
He led them deeper into Site-19, past more corridors and sealed doors, the hum growing louder until it vibrated in Ace's chest. They reached a cavernous armory, its walls lined with weapons—guns, blades, devices that defied description—all gleaming under harsh lights. Technicians scurried about, their movements precise, their faces blank.
Bright waved at a workbench where a woman in a lab coat waited, her hair pulled into a tight bun. "Ace, Mai, meet Dr. Kessler. She's your gear guru. Kessler, these are my freelancers. Hook 'em up."
Kessler nodded, her expression neutral as she gestured to a set of items laid out on the table. "For you," she said to Ace, her voice clipped. "Reinforced katana sheaths—carbon-fiber alloy, lightweight, unbreakable. Blades are yours, but we've added microfilament edges—cuts through damn near anything. And this." She held up a wrist device, sleek and black. "Tactical scanner—tracks heat, energy signatures, anomalies. Range is fifty meters."
Ace took the sheaths, testing their weight—light as air, strong as steel. She swapped them out, her katanas sliding in with a satisfying click, and strapped the scanner to her wrist. It hummed to life, a faint blue hologram flickering above it. "Not bad," she said, her smirk approving.
"For you," Kessler continued, turning to Mai. "Trauma kit—self-sealing bandages, stims, painkillers. And this." She handed over a compact pistol, its barrel etched with runes. "Disruptor rounds—non-lethal, scrambles energy fields. Good for anomalies, bad for humans."
Mai took the gear, her reluctance fading as she hefted the pistol. "Guess I'm in too," she muttered, glancing at Ace.
"Couldn't keep you out if I tried," Ace replied, her tone teasing.
Bright watched, his grin unfaltering. "Beautiful. Now, the plan: SCP- was last spotted in a forest near the outpost—dense, dark, perfect ambush turf. We've got a chopper prepped to drop you in tonight. Get in, kill it, get out. Questions?"
Ace tilted her head. "What's the backup?"
"You're the backup," Bright said, his tone light but his eyes serious. "We'll have a containment team on standby, but they're slow—protocol bullshit. You're the tip of the spear."
Mai frowned. "And if we find this SCP-1?"
"Call it in," Bright said. "Scanner's got a comm link. We'll handle the rest."
Ace nodded, her mind already mapping the hunt—the forest, the shadows, the monster waiting within. "Let's do it."
The day passed in a blur of prep—briefings, gear checks, a hasty meal of tasteless rations in a Site-19 canteen where the staff whispered about "Bright's new pets." By dusk, Ace and Mai stood on a helipad, the chopper's blades slicing the air with a rhythmic roar. The sky was a deep indigo, the blood moon rising again, its crimson light bathing the compound in an otherworldly glow.
Bright saw them off, his lab coat flapping in the wind. "Don't die out there," he shouted over the noise. "I'd hate to lose my favorite contractors!"
Ace smirked, climbing aboard. "Don't jinx it, Bright."
The chopper lifted off, soaring over the forest as night swallowed the world below. Ace gazed out the open door, her hair whipping in the wind, her katanas gleaming faintly under the moon's bloody hue. Mai sat beside her, pistol in hand, her jaw set with determination.
The pilot's voice crackled through their headsets. "Drop zone in five. No heat signatures yet—stay sharp."
Ace activated her scanner, its hologram pulsing as it swept the darkness below. "Ready?" she asked Mai, her smirk a blade in the night.
"Ready," Mai replied, her voice steady.
The chopper descended, hovering above a clearing where the trees parted like a wound in the earth. Ace leapt first, her boots hitting the ground with a soft thud, her katanas drawn in a flash of steel. Mai followed, landing beside her, pistol raised.
The forest was a cathedral of shadows—towering pines loomed overhead, their branches clawing at the sky, while the undergrowth rustled with unseen life. The air was thick with the scent of moss and decay, and the blood moon's light filtered through the canopy in jagged streaks, casting the world in shades of red and black.
Ace's scanner beeped, a faint blip appearing on the hologram. "Movement," she whispered, her eyes narrowing. "Fifty meters north."
They moved silently, Ace leading with the grace of a predator, Mai shadowing her with cautious steps. The forest grew denser, the shadows deeper, until the scanner's beeps quickened, a staccato warning that set Ace's pulse racing.
Then it came—a roar that split the night, a sound of rage and hunger that shook the trees. SCP- emerged from the darkness, a monstrosity of claws and teeth, its form swollen and grotesque under the moon's glow. Tentacles writhed from its back, dripping acid that hissed against the ground, and its eyes burned with a sickly yellow light.
Ace's smirk widened, her katanas flashing as she charged. "Time to dance," she muttered, and the forest erupted into chaos.
The battle was a whirlwind of steel and shadow. Ace moved like a phantom, her blades slicing through the creature's hide, each cut drawing gouts of black ichor that sizzled in the air. Mai fired her disruptor, the rounds bursting against the anomaly in crackling bursts of energy, staggering it long enough for Ace to strike again. The forest floor became a battlefield—trees splintered, earth churned, the blood moon watching like a silent judge.
SCP- was relentless, its tentacles lashing out with deadly precision, its jaws snapping inches from Ace's throat. She ducked and rolled, her scanner guiding her to weak points—an exposed flank, a pulsing core beneath its ribs. Her katanas bit deep, the microfilament edges carving through flesh and bone, but the creature adapted, its wounds sealing with a grotesque speed.
"Bright wasn't kidding," Ace grunted, flipping back to avoid a spray of acid. "This thing's a bitch."
Mai reloaded, her hands steady despite the chaos. "Keep it busy—I'll flank it!"
Ace nodded, drawing its attention with a flurry of strikes, her semi-shadow form pulsing as she pushed her limits. The scanner beeped wildly, a second signature flickering at the edge of its range—faint, elusive, watching.
SCP- roared, its tentacles coiling for a final strike, but Mai's disruptor hit its core, a blast that sent it reeling. Ace seized the moment, leaping high and plunging both katanas into its skull. The creature convulsed, its form collapsing into a puddle of ichor and mist, the forest falling silent once more.
Breathing hard, Ace wiped her blades, her smirk triumphant. But the scanner beeped again, insistent, and she turned to see a figure in the shadows—a small girl, white hair glowing under the moon, violet eyes fixed on her with an unreadable gaze.
"You," Ace said, her voice low.
The girl smiled, a flicker of something ancient in her expression, then vanished in a burst of light, leaving only silence and questions in her wake.
Mai joined her, pistol still raised. "SCP-1?"
"Maybe," Ace said, her smirk returning. "Bright's gonna love this."
The chopper's lights pierced the darkness, descending to extract them, and Ace knew this was far from over. The hunt had just begun.