Pietro Wilson felt that everything had gone to hell.
He trudged through the scorched earth, his steps heavy. Heat radiated through the soles of his boots; even with iron-toed shoes, he could feel that the ground had not yet cooled. Behind Pietro, the burning village painted the night sky a sickly orange-red. Thick smoke carried the scent of char and another, more nauseating odor—Pietro knew exactly what that smell was.
He was far too familiar with it.
Pietro's stomach churned. He forced down the urge to vomit and continued walking. The villagers, who had once lived in peace, were now nothing more than twisted silhouettes on the ground, frozen in the postures of their final moments. Flames licked their bodies, making a sizzling sound.
The people who had slaughtered them were currently preparing to leave.
Pietro saw them. Wearing black tactical gear, they still bore those familiar triple-arrow concentric circle insignias. In the reflection of the fire, their outlines were too clear. So clear, in fact, that Pietro could see one of them coldly firing a finishing shot into a corpse. The muzzle was pressed against the back of the head, the trigger pulled, and then they moved to the next one. Their movements were mechanical and practiced, as if they were completing a routine chore.
Those were... Foundation Mobile Task Forces.
Pietro froze in place, his heart racing. He wanted to run, but his legs felt like they were filled with lead. Surrounded by burning ruins and open wilderness, Pietro could only watch as those men walked toward him—
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
They walked past him without a sideways glance. They were so close that Pietro could see the eyes beneath the leader's mask. Those eyes swept over the spot where he stood and then moved away, as if nothing were there.
They couldn't see him.
Pietro didn't dare breathe until those black figures disappeared into the night. He pressed his hand against his pounding heart, feeling as though his organs were about to leap out of his throat. He gasped for air, the scorching heat burning his respiratory tract, but he didn't care. Once his heartbeat calmed slightly, he turned and ran toward the burning village.
Maybe, maybe someone was still alive. maybe someone was hiding somewhere. Maybe—
There were no maybes. He looked around; there was nothing but corpse after corpse.
"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" Pietro knelt on the ground, slamming his fist against the earth. Scorched soil flew, and his knuckles stung, but he couldn't feel it. He just hammered the ground mechanically, over and over, until his hands were covered in black ash and dark red blood.
Why? Why kill these people? What did they do wrong?
There were no answers. Just like that day in the site, there were no answers.
He finally forced himself to calm down and stood up with great difficulty. His legs felt weak, as if he were walking on cotton. In the distance, the burning village continued to crackle, sounding like the final whispers of the dead.
Pietro closed his eyes, and images from a dozen days ago surfaced in his mind. He was originally just an ordinary person, a power grid technician at Exclusionary Site-06. His daily work consisted of checking circuits and recording data. He had never even seen an SCP breach, let alone a D-class personnel.
But a dozen days ago, a team of agents calling themselves "Mobile Task Force Zeta-19 (Lonely Only)" stormed the site. They gathered everyone, including his colleagues, into the cafeteria—and then, a massacre began without warning. The only reason he had survived was that in the chaos, Pietro happened to grab the Absolute Exclusion Harness.
Pietro touched his chest. The metal edges of the harness pressed against his ribs, giving him an absurd sense of security. This thing was an anomalous protective device designed by the organization, granting the wearer an extremely strong cognitive filtering ability that caused others to automatically ignore his existence.
It was thanks to this device that he had escaped the massacre.
But after escaping the site, Pietro found that the entire world had gone mad. News of the Foundation declaring war on all humanity spread like a virus. Cities fell, order collapsed... Pietro was completely dazed.
Who am I? Where am I? What exactly happened?
Countless questions swirled in his head, but he found no answers. Ultimately, Pietro decided to head for Site-19—the nearest major Foundation facility. He had to find answers, even if it turned out to be hell.
Pietro took a deep breath, preparing to continue his journey. The Exclusion Harness not only made him invisible but also granted him physical capabilities far beyond a normal person's. It allowed a frail tech guy like Pietro to walk for hours in the wilderness without feeling fatigued. This was perhaps the only consolation in this nightmare.
Rustle, rustle, rustle...
Just then, a faint sound reached his ears. "Wait, is this... is someone still alive?" Pietro's heart leaped, and a flash of joy erupted on his face. He immediately rushed toward the sound, digging through the collapsed debris.
Then, Pietro stopped. The joy on his face faded rapidly, replaced by deep disappointment. It was just an old radio. A black plastic casing, a crooked knob, and a half-broken antenna. It lay on the scorched ground, emitting a static crackle. It looked ordinary, no different from junk found in a second-hand market.
Amidst the static, a voice came through intermittently. It was a young male voice, roughly his age. The tone even sounded somewhat familiar.
"[Seven], [Five], can you hear me? There is a hole in the hole between your eyelids that is glowing. I have never been to Versailles before; I want to be loved. [Nine], I am standing behind you right now. [Five], I am everything between the two of us, standing right behind you. [Nine], there is a hole in the ground with answers waiting for you inside. [Seven], look! You are hatching, you are hatching!"
What was this? Nonsensical gibberish. Pietro furrowed his brow. He stepped forward and bent down to pick up the radio. The casing was covered in burn marks and dust. When he flipped it over...
Pietro froze. The back cover of the thing had cracked open, and the circuit board inside was mostly burned. The components were scattered, and several wires had even melted into a charred lump. This thing couldn't possibly work.
Pietro stared at the junk in his hand, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Was it a hallucination? Was the Exclusion Harness malfunctioning? Or had he finally gone crazy?
Just then, the voice in the radio stopped. Silence. Only the crackling of the distant flames and Pietro's own heartbeat remained.
Maybe it was an auditory hallucination, he thought, preparing to throw the radio away and continue his journey—
"[Run]."
The static exploded again, and the voice suddenly became urgent and sharp. "[Run]! A hunter with a bent bow has noticed you. [Run]! A clever rabbit can evade a fox's tracking. [Run]! For the future of you and everyone hatching, [Run]—"
Pietro whipped his head around. And right then, a calm voice came from the air above him. It was clear and arrived without warning.
"Excuse me, which one of you is Mr. Pietro Wilson from Exclusionary Site-06?"