The chamber was silent.
Not peaceful—paralyzed. The kind of silence that made your heartbeat feel loud.
Rusted walls. Flickering red lights. The air was thick with SCP-939's gas. Outside, claws scraped metal. Voices whispered through the cracks.
Inside, four survivors sat in fractured corners of the room.
Dr. Eliah Voss
He hadn't spoken since Kael was dragged in. Mid-40s, pale, hollow-eyed. A former Foundation researcher
Mira
Late 20s, ex-security. Her eyes never stopped scanning. One hand always near her boot, where a sharpened metal shard waited. She didn't trust anyone—not the SCPs, not the others, and definitely not the unconscious man with glowing eyes.
Rafe
Early 30s. Angry, pacing, fists clenched. He'd survived too long to believe in rescue. He wanted out, even if it meant using Kael as bait.
Nico
Nine years old. Small, quiet kid.
Kael lay in the center of the chamber, blood crusting along his side, breath shallow. His body twitched faintly. His mind was still trapped in hallucinations—fighting, winning, repeating.
Nico crept forward.
The others watched.
Rafe: "Kid, don't."
Mira: "He's not safe."
But Nico didn't stop.
He knelt beside Kael.
Stared.
Then—
Poke.
Kael's fingers twitched.
Nico blinked.
Poke.
Kael's eyes snapped open.
Kael: "Hhh—haaah…!"His breath came heavy, ragged. His eyes darted around the room.
Kael (thinking):Where… am I?
He tried to sit up, but his body screamed in pain.
The others backed away.
Kael looked at Nico.
The kid stared back, wide-eyed.
Kael: "You… poked me?"
Nico nodded.
Kael blinked again.
The chamber spun.
The voices outside whispered louder.
And Kael realized—he wasn't alone.
Kael blinked, the chamber spinning around him. Shadows danced across rusted walls. He wasn't alone.
Kael (whispering): "Huh… where am I?"
His voice barely stirred the air, but the silence was shattered.
From beyond the chamber door, a voice slithered through the cracks—soft, pleading, wrong.
SCP-939 (mimicking): "Help me…"
Kael's breath caught. That wasn't human.
Kael (muttering): "What the hell…?"
He turned to the child beside him, the only one who hadn't backed away.
Kael (whispering): "Do you know where we are?"
Nico (quietly): "I… don't know."
Kael grunted, forcing himself upright. His limbs trembled, but something inside him burned—steady, electric.
Kael (growling): "I have to get out of here… Where is that fool?"
He staggered to his feet. The chamber groaned around him. His blue eyes shimmered faintly, catching the flickering red light. He brushed his white hair from his forehead, revealing a jagged scar pulsing just beneath the skin.
Kael stepped toward the door, each movement slow, deliberate. He leaned in, peering through the narrow slit in the rusted metal—no sign of SCP-939. Just shadows and silence.
He moved forward.
Rafe (grumbling): "He's gonna die."
Dr. Voss: Silent. Watching. Eyes unreadable.
Mira (hissing): "Is he an idiot?"
Kael ignored them. His boots crunched softly against the floor. The hallway beyond was worse than the chamber—glass shards littered the ground, fractured like frozen screams. Deep claw marks carved into the walls, some fresh, some old. The air reeked of copper and something… wrong.