"All units, this is Falcon. I'm assuming joint command," David's voice crackled over the encrypted channel, cold and sharp. "March Hare is wounded—Lambda-5 falls under my control. Primary objective: rescue Thomas and secure the subterranean anomaly. Foundation reinforcements arrive in five minutes with K-7 high-intensity neuro-sedatives and three 'Hellhound' portable containment units." He paused as the satellite thermal map on his tablet revealed a nightmare of red veins sprawling underground. "Prepare for a fierce fight in a labyrinth."
Inside the command tent, Zach pecked rapidly at his keyboard.
"Captain, these heat sources aren't moving randomly!" He looked up, alarm in his eyes. "They're forming a cyclical flow—as if channeling energy for some… ritual."
Irene leaned in, overlaying another file on the thermal imagery.
"This energy pattern and expansion… matches SCP-610's early 'Flesh Garden' stage with over 70% correlation."
A young Lambda-5 operator visibly shuddered. In Foundation circles, that phrase was taboo.
"Split into teams." I marked points on the map. "Alpha assault team—myself plus two Lambda-5 demolitions experts—descend below to Thomas's last known location. Beta defense team under 'Clockwork' holds the surface entrance, establishing crossfire to prevent anything escaping." Clockwork, Lambda-5's taciturn deputy, simply nodded.
"Irene, Zach, you're Gamma support. Accompany Alpha. Irene handles bio-sampling and emergency medevac. Zach, decrypt their communications and lock onto the red crystal's core frequency."
Above, helicopter rotors announced close fire support readiness.
At the chasm's edge, the stench of rot was suffocating. I led the first rappel into darkness. The tunnel was wider than expected; the walls writhed with dark-red, vessel-like tissue, pulsing and slick. My helmet scanner groaned—these veins were eating into the rock, even enshrouding collapsed metal braces in a thin mycelial film.
"This damned place… it's alive," a demolitions expert muttered, shining his torch on the breathing wall.
Fifty meters down, in a cavernous chamber, we found Thomas. He knelt, half-encased in a tough red webbing, like an insect trapped in amber. His comms unit still worked; he was conscious.
"Boss… you finally came…" Thomas rasped. "Cough… I saw those… 'red-skin apes'… kneeling before a giant, heart-like red mass… worshipping it… or charging it?"
"Samples." I signaled as two team members carefully cut away the webbing. Irene scraped tissue from both the walls and the bindings, sealing each in sterile vials. She tested one on her portable analyzer—her face went pale.
"Standard Class-A disinfectant does nothing. It's adapting and generating resistance! Under the microscope, cells mutate visibly—they're consuming the disinfectant. Their DNA is over 90% homologous to SCP-939 but more primitive and aggressive. These 939 are only sentinels of this… 'flesh.'"
The cavern rumbled. Rocks rained down.
"Energy spike off the charts! All heat sources converging on the center!" Zach's scream crackled over the comm.
"Now's our chance!" I shouted. "Zach, jam them! Alpha, free Thomas and be ready to capture an isolated 939!"
"On it—super-noisemaker Mk II!" Zach pressed the red activation button on his device.
A piercing ultrasonic wave erupted. A swarm of 939 racing toward the center froze. Smaller ones clawed at their heads in agony, emitting chaotic shrieks. One medium specimen veered off course.
"That's our target!" I roared. Two Lambda-5 operators and I formed a pincer.
The creature reacted instantly, screeching and lunging with fang-flashed jaws. Irene fired a K-7 dart straight into its neck. The impact slowed it but didn't topple it—instead, it thrashed violently.
"Thick hide!" one teammate cursed, burning it with his pulse rifle to force it back.
I seized the opening, sliding in and wrapping it in a special alloy restraint around its hind leg while the others laid down suppressive fire. Irene risked a close shot, plunging a second dart into its exposed spinal junction. The 939 let out a piteous wail and finally went limp.
"Thomas!" I freed him and lifted him to his feet. His left arm glowed a sickly dark red, veins grotesquely visible beneath torn flesh.
"A scratch…" he groaned, sweat beading on his brow.
Irene applied emergency gel and a powerful inhibitor to halt the spread of the red filaments.
"Fall back!" I ordered.
Above us, the cavern entrance groaned—then collapsed in a thunder of rock and dust. Our main exit was gone.
"Damn! Zach, alternate route!"
"Three hundred meters ahead—narrow fissure to the surface—but signal shows massive energy buildup."
We had no choice. Escorting Thomas and our captive 939, we sprinted toward the fissure. As we turned a corner, a colossal form materialized—a gargantuan 939, its dorsal eyes flickering with uncanny intelligence. It tilted its faceless head and spoke in my daughter's sweet, childlike voice:
"Daddy… why did you take my baby… it just… wanted to go home…"
My breath caught. That inflection, that tone—identical to my little girl's. For a heartbeat, my finger froze on the trigger.
But I shook it off, steadied my aim, and fired. The shot whooshed past as the beast dodged with impossible speed, roaring in fury as it lunged.
"Protect the sample!" I yelled, shoving Irene and Zach aside and facing the creature. Its jaws ripped through my shoulder, tearing my protective suit in a burst of pain and blood.
"For the Foundation!" Clockwork bellowed, diving into the creature's path. He detonated every flashbang and smoke grenade he carried, drawing the beast's full attention into a brilliant, choking distraction.
"Go!" I screamed.
In that moment, we scrambled through the fissure into fresh air—back into the night.
At the forward base, the sedated 939 was sealed in a Hellhound unit and hoisted onto the transport. Irene tended my shoulder wound, concern etching her features. The cut wasn't deep, but fine red filaments were already creeping from its edges.
As the unit lifted, Zach's headset crackled with an unexpected whisper—a faint, clear voice in an ancient, raspy tongue. The translator parsed fragments:
"…this is… only the beginning…"
"…the seed… has been sown…"
Silence fell, heavier than ever.
The trap had closed—and a darker chapter was just opening.