[Foundation Secure Channel – Internal Log Access: SCP-076] Entry: Dr. Mira Han, Research Lead _"SCP-076: Containment protocols remain unchanged. Cube temperature constant at 93 Kelvin. No activity detected. Reviewing historical breach reports for incident patterns.
_First recorded activation: 19th-century Mongolia. Expedition lost. Subsequent recovery by Foundation assets. Multiple containment failures over next century; casualties remain classified.
_Subject's anomalous properties confirmed: extreme physical capability, rapid regeneration, ability to manifest weapons from spatial rifts. Lethal to all encountered personnel when active. Termination leads to rapid decay, followed by reformation within SCP-076-1.
Current status: Dormant. Scheduled for transfer to Akashic Foundation main base pending N1S unit repairs. All field teams remain on high alert."
Elias rubbed his eyes and leaned over the security console, fatigue etched into every line of his face. The cameras cycled through views of the facility: steel corridors, blast doors, the air thick with recycled tension. He paused on Vault-3. Frost webbed the inside of the observation glass, hiding the cube in a haze of white.
Mira entered, her tablet clutched tight to her chest. She didn't bother with small talk—just slid into the chair beside him, eyes fixed on the same feed. Mira: "Archives say the last breach lasted four minutes. That's how long it took to lose the whole site.
They detonated the warhead after."
She let the words hang, grim and factual.
Elias exhaled, tapping the screen to zoom in on the cube's surface. The engravings seemed to shift in the low light. Elias: "We're not getting more N1S support?"
Mira: "No. The old unit's all we've got. Still offline. Tech says the power core's shot. We're on our own until transfer."
Elias: "Transfer. Right. Like moving a nuke with a cardboard box."
Commander Jax's boots hit the deck with a heavy thud as he entered. He moved with the burden of someone who'd buried too many teammates. Jax: "Report."
Elias: "No movement. System checks clean. Vault temperature holding."
Jax: "Good. Keep it that way. Maintenance is prepping the transfer protocol. We'll be lucky if the cube doesn't notice."
He paused, glancing at Mira.
Jax: "You find anything in the logs that helps?"
Mira (shakes her head): "Nothing new. Patterns are unpredictable. Activation intervals vary from hours to decades. There's no warning. When it wakes, containment is violence. That's it."
Jax: "Then everyone sticks to the plan. If it stirs, we lock down. N1S is a last resort, even if it's barely functional."
The comms buzzed—an automated reminder of the transfer timeline. All personnel, maintain readiness. SCP-076 scheduled for relocation to Foundation main core in seventy-two hours. Elias: "You think it'll stay quiet that long?"
Jax (flat): "Doesn't matter what I think. Cube gets moved, or we die trying."
The three sat in silence, watching as frost crept—millimeter by millimeter—over the glass. The chain anchors looked as solid as ever, but everyone in the room knew: if SCP-076-2 decided to wake, nothing here would last.
A distant clang echoed from the maintenance wing. The old N1S unit, half-dismantled, cables snaking from its chassis, flickered under the harsh lights. Its single optic pulsed weakly, like a dying star. Mira: "It's not enough."
Jax: "We do what we can. We hold the line."
The containment vault remained silent. For now.