The shift began like any other. Elias watched the monitors, static crackling in the corners of his vision. The Vault's temperature dipped another degree. Somewhere in the maintenance bay, the techs cursed and pounded on the half-assembled N1S unit. The sense of waiting—of holding a breath that never ended—was a physical thing.
Mira's hands shook as she reviewed the last transfer checklist. She forced herself to focus on the screen, reading protocol after protocol, but the words were blurring. Elias (softly): "Hey. You good?"Mira: "I'm fine. Just" She hesitated. "Feels like the air's getting thicker."
Down the hall, the sound of boots. N3 security teams rotated in: young, tense, sweating through their armor. They joked in low, brittle voices—gallows humor, the last defense. N3-Alpha (grinning): "If it wakes up, first round's on me." N3-Beta: "Yeah, if you can find your head after."
Alarms blared. The lights snapped red, casting the world in blood and shadow.
Containment Breach – SCP-076-2 Active
The feed from Vault-3 snapped into chaos: Frost melted into steam. Chains whipped and snapped. The black stone door exploded outward. A human figure—tall, gaunt, eyes like cold iron—emerged from the coffin, violence incarnate.
The first N3 squad moved in, weapons raised, voices shaking. N3-Alpha: "Contact—target in sight! Engaging!"
SCP-076-2 moved faster than thought. The first volley of rounds pinged harmlessly off the walls. The thing was already among them, pulling a blade from empty air. Screams echoed, cut short. Blood painted the monitors, crimson against the white frost.
Elias slammed the lockdown. Blast doors shuddered down the hall, but it was too late for most of the team. Jax (over comms): "I1C, fall back! All N3 units, hold corridor—delay at all costs!"
Mira crouched behind a console, hands over her mouth as the sounds of slaughter filtered through the speakers: wet thuds, metal bending, desperate shouts cut off into silence. Elias (voice cracking): "We're losing them. Jax, we're"Jax: "Stick to protocol! Hold the line!"
Another monitor: N3 teams in the kill corridor, faces pale, eyes wide. 076-2 tore through them, blades whistling, flesh and armor parting like paper. Bones splintered. Armor failed. Blood pooled, slick and black in the emergency lights.
Mira's terminal flashed warnings—containment breach, severe casualties, structural integrity compromised.
She crawled to the maintenance bay, heart pounding, vision tunneling. The N1S unit stood on its rack, chest open, cables like intestines spilled across the floor. Tech Ramirez was dead, neck at an impossible angle. Mira (choking back panic): "Come on, come on—activate, damn you"
She slammed the reboot switch. The N1S's optic flickered, then died. Not ready. No backup.
Footsteps behind her. Heavy, deliberate. SCP-076-2, blade dripping, eyes blank with rage. Mira froze, breath caught, certain she was next.
A blast door slammed down inches from her face, cutting off the monster's advance. Jax's voice crackled in her earpiece, hoarse and desperate. Jax: "Get to the core. Now!"
Mira crawled, slipping in blood, every breath a prayer. The world was reduced to alarms, screams, the pounding of her heart.
Behind her, the N1S unit's systems hummed—slow, struggling, not yet alive.
Elias found her in the corridor, dragging her to safety as another explosion shook the outpost. Elias: "Stay with me. We're not done yet."
The breach raged on. N3 teams fell, one after another—bodies scattered, corridors painted with gore. The black cube sat forgotten in its shattered vault, while death stalked the living.
Only the half-repaired machine, and the few survivors, stood between annihilation and containment.
And in the dark, the Foundation endured.