Chapter Text
Glass glittered in the air as you fell, catching the light and sparkling. It was almost pretty.
That was the only observation you had time to make before you hit the ground, air knocked from your lungs and leaving you gasping.
No… not the ground. A coughing, breathless 035.
“Ow,” he wheezed.
You rolled off of him, too winded yourself to get to your knees. The tile was cold against your skin, but all you focused on was propping yourself on your elbows, drawing in each wretched breath until your lungs started to fill.
035 recovered much faster than you did, and you had to wonder if it had all been theatrics; he rose to his feet in an unnatural, fluid motion, as if a dropped marionette picked up by his puppeteer.
You dragged yourself onto your hands and knees, grabbing onto a nearby bench to gain your feet when a soft voice called out.
“Is someone there?”
You stopped moving. Very, very slowly, you looked up.
Five large, raw-flesh-colored creatures approached across the glass-strewn linoleum, their heads raised in curiosity. Sightless faces tilted, testing the air for what had fallen into their newly claimed territory.
“Who’s there?” a second asked, the words coming from its half open jaws completely human, even familiar. You thought it belonged to one of the guards. “Show yourself!”
You pressed your hands over your mouth. To stifle your own voice, to hold back the bile, to block out the rotting stench of their amnestic-tinged odor, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t move, or breathe, not while the 939s were closing in, slowly and inevitably. Their black claws clicked against the floor, sometimes stepping through a spilled, abandoned dinner, or a stray puddle of blood. It was the first evidence you’d seen of Foundation personnel.
There were no bodies.
An arm slipped around your waist and hauled you to your feet, and without your hand over your mouth you would have screamed.
035 held you flat against his chest, his gaze on the approaching SCPs. The ballistics visor was flipped up, his ceramic mouth pulled into a tragic frown, apparently no happier with this development than you were.
He leaned down and spoke low next to your ear.
“Time for you to be a good little meat shield.”
You shook your head and attempted to backpedal into 035 to get away from the approaching creatures. You’d much rather deal with him than them.
He let out a frustrated huff.
“They’re not going to hurt you. They can’t.”
You shook your head again. He didn’t understand. 173 had managed to hurt you. 106 would have if he could. And there was something about the 939s that crawled under your skin and set off the proximity alarms in the part of your brain that recognized apex predators hiding in the brush.
Except they weren’t hiding. They were circling, calling out with their lures, a mimicry of the last words spoken by their most recent victims.
035 didn’t wait for you to get with the program, but at least he moved cautiously as he pulled you towards the exit—which happened to be between two 939s. Their hunched shoulders and lowered heads belied the growing panic in their stolen voices.
“Hello? Are you there?” the nearest called out. “Where are you? Are you injured?”
If you’d had the hands available, you would have covered your ears to block out the soft voices floating out of those jagged maws.
“Come on,” another quietly pleaded. “The MTFs will be here soon. Stop hiding.”
“Guys?” a third asked, the voice trembling. “Come out, I mean it. This isn’t… this isn’t funny—”
“What the hell are you!” yelled the fourth, the terror in the words so perfectly mimicked sweat broke out on your skin. “Oh, God, what are you!”
Crunch.
035 froze, and then carefully lifted his boot off the shard of glass, the crackling of the pieces falling from the rubber of his soles as loud as a dinner bell calling mealtime. The 939s swiveled their heads to follow the noise, and one of them threw back its head to let out a scream that sounded exactly as if a grown man was being torn from his own limbs.
You were going to throw up.
“Reid,” 035 hissed out with his own stolen voice, “if you’re going to do something, now’s the time.”
Do what? What the hell did he expect you to do? They couldn’t be reasoned with, you couldn’t talk them down, they were going to tear you apart and not even the cleanup crew would find the pieces—
Another 939 erupted in a wail, drawn-out and agonized before the voice tapered into a gurgling whimper.
Every inch of you trembled as you let out a quiet hush.
“Shhh. It-it’s okay now. You’re okay. Shhh, shhh.”
All five of them tilted their heads in your direction, attentive and still. The nearest one was so close its hot breath warmed your arms where they were clutched around 079’s bag, holding it tight to your chest.
“It’s okay,” you repeated, shaking so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk if 035 wasn’t supporting your weight. “It’s all r-right. Don’t be afraid. You’re-you’re okay now. You’re okay.”
You continued the litany of comforting words, soothing yourself just as much as you were trying to calm them. Your heart raced as you squeezed past the two of them, neither of them biting or snapping, even when the fabric of your smock brushed against their bright red flesh.
Their voices became a murmur of soft phrases that you almost didn’t catch until the two closest began to repeat them.
“Thank goodness I found you.”
“We were so worried we lost you.”
“Everything’s going to be fine now that you’re here.”
And then you were free, past the circle of whispers words and gaping jaws. They didn’t follow, returning their attention to sniff at the spilled food with disinterest, waiting for a more appetizing meal to come along.
035 didn’t speak until you were past the cafeteria doors, locking them behind you with a swipe of the keycard. He set you against the wall, letting you catch your breath as you braced your palms against your knees, wrists still bound with zip ties. You expected cruel mockery, it seemed the perfect time for it, but he remained blissfully quiet.
When you finally straightened, 035 visibly perked up and sauntered to your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders.
“See? You’re a natural. I had faith in you.”
He flipped down the ballistics visor and pressed a “kiss” to your forehead through the shield, making a smooching sound.
“Get off me,” you snarled, but your attempt to push him away only tightened the arm around you.
“You gonna behave?” he asked, the humor dropping from his voice. “Or are you gonna try to hurl us off another floor? In which case, I will tie you to this body, and you won’t like the way I do it.”
Some of the humor crept back.
“Though you may enjoy it.”
Christ.
Your lips pressed together in order to stop them from trembling. Your whole body was a jittery mess from the adrenaline, you couldn’t run even if you had the opportunity, and you sure as hell didn’t want to find out what he meant.
“Please,” you tried, hating the way your voice cracked. “I just want to find 049. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?"
You closed your eyes and chose your next words more carefully.
“The Site Director took him just before the breach. I don’t know what happened to him. I just… have to make sure he’s okay.”
035 gave a sympathetic hum.
“And you will—after you get me outta here. I promise. Scout’s honor.”
You opened your eyes as he touched the barrel of the rifle over his heart, as if swearing a sacred oath. And the thing of it was, you didn’t think he was lying. He could fully believe what he was saying, that when the time came, he would set you free and let you return to find 049.
You didn’t know if it was your abilities shaping into something tangible, or if you bullshit meter was working overtime, or maybe you understood 035 better than you realized. Whatever the reason, you knew he wouldn’t keep that promise, no matter how sweet the words.
049’s stories about 035 hadn’t been exaggerated. The mask wasn’t in the habit of acting rationally with things he viewed as his.
He would never let you go.
You wanted to cry. Your body hurt, you were so tired your muscles felt as thin as tissue paper, and an ache had developed between your eyes. All you wanted was 049. To make sure he was still alive and unharmed, and that Leahy hadn’t had time to do anything too horrific.
After that, you could figure out the rest, but so long as you were under 035’s thumb, you were stuck. You’d thought a containment breach meant some kind of freedom, but you’d gone from one captor to another, trading shackles for zip ties.
You glanced at 035 out of the corner of your eye and hunched your shoulders, trying to shake him off but also showing a sign of unwilling defeat.
“Fine, just… let me go.”
And he did, holding up an open palm to show he wasn’t touching you. His other still held the rifle, guaranteeing your obedience either way.
035 led in front, down one corridor or another, your destination unknown. There were more signs of violence and struggle now. Bullet holes riddled the plaster walls, shell casings littered the floor. The occasional smear of blood and other unknown fluids marking the difference between when a human or SCP had been shot.
Admittedly, you stopped paying attention at some point, your body going on autopilot as your mind checked out. The halls were all starting to look the same, equal parts empty or marked by blood and death. Only a hand on your shoulder snapped you back to reality, your footsteps halting.
Before you lay a dark stretch of hallway, the overhead lights either unpowered or shattered. 035’s voice was unusually quiet.
“Not that way, sweetheart.”
He started to turn you away when a pair of bright lights cut the darkness. You flinched and shielded your eyes, blinking through your spotty vision.
The lights didn’t move, eerily silent as they brightened the entire corridor, the both of you caught like two deer in the headlights.
035 tugged you along and you went willingly this time, once again having to choose the mask over being at the mercy of other SCPs. At least they didn’t follow. After all, the pair of 745s didn’t realize that a site facility corridor wasn’t the natural environment for a vehicle, and their ploy to pretend to be another car on the highway wouldn’t work here.
Still, you didn’t breathe easier until the eerie lights were blocked by the next set of corridors. The 745s were almost as unsettling as the 939s. Something about mimicking humans in a mundane way with the intention of devouring them.
“See?” 035 purred, ribbing you with his elbow. “I’m looking out for you.”
“Because it serves your best interests.”
“We’re like an old married couple.” He flipped up the visor, his toothless Cheshire Cat grin on full display. “Knowing each other’s most flattering qualities. I’m cunning and devastatingly handsome. You like to go barreling into dangerous anomalies. We’re a perfect match.”
You made a disgusted noise, but 035 didn’t pay you any mind. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, which appeared to be deeper into Heavy Containment. He’d mentioned that the skybridges were pulled up and you wouldn’t be able to leave that way, but you still didn’t know how the archives held the solution.
Something caught your eye, moving so slowly you almost missed it. It followed your progress down the hallway, and when you found another around the corridor, it tracked your movement with a subtle arc.
Cameras. Security cameras spaced along the junction between the walls and the ceiling, necessary for the parts of containment that housed the most dangerous anomalies.
If it was anyone from security, they would have sent a platoon by now, or simply gassed you out, leaving 035 to face a dozen armed MTF soldiers. Even he would be hard-pressed to get his stolen body through a hail of bullets.
But there were no thundering footsteps or the hiss of nozzles. There was simply the steady, patient watchfulness of the cameras. It wasn’t a hard guess as to who was watching you—or rather, who had never stopped.
035 made a frustrated noise, drawing your attention back to where he stood in front of a closed door. You’d reached a decontamination airlock, one that seemed to be having a disagreement with 035’s keycard.
“Stupid thing, what’s taking so long!” He swiped again, the reader flashing green, but the door remained sealed tight. “It shouldn’t even be closed—ah, there we are.”
The door slid open and 035 corralled you into the airlock ahead of him, the door on the other side shut and trapping you within the chamber.
035 turned his back, this time fighting to close the airlock. The doors wouldn’t close without the decontamination protocol running, and the protocol wouldn’t begin until the doors were sealed.
“That overblown circuit board fried the whole system.” After several unsuccessful swipes, he decided on a different course of action, aiming his rifle at the card reader, his voice taking on a mocking tilt. “I told them. I said, leave the plan to 079 and he’s going to fuck it alllll up.”
The door on the opposite side of the chamber slid open without a noise, leaving the way clear. You glanced over your shoulder, but 035 was still grumbling to himself, angling his head down at the card reader as in the midst of an argument he was adamant on winning.
“Idiot couldn’t even disarm the nukes at the last site. Or the Tesla Gates. You know, I think the little shit turned them on specifically when I walked through them just to fuck with—”
035 went silent and turned, but you had already walked out, the airlock closing and locking behind you.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t cajole or simper. 035 simply straightened his spine and walked up to the door, his face frozen into a smile that was somehow worse than its frown. It radiated waves of quiet, unequivocal fury.
“That… was a mistake.”
You carefully backed away from the door, clutching the strap of the bag to your chest.
035 released a breath, flipped down the ballistics visor, and raised the rifle. Flashes of light erupted from the barrel, thunder and smoke filling the chamber as the bullets ricocheted and destroyed the machinery inside. Pipes burst overhead, gas seeping into the room around 035, shrouding him in a fog punctuated by bursts of gunfire.
The glass was bulletproof, but you hadn’t known that as you shielded your head, bracing for the bullets to rip you apart.
It eventually went quiet once 035 stopped firing, and he stared at you without a word, the chilling emptiness of the visor much more honest than the dual expressions of the mask.
You ran.
Not knowing where you were going, blinded by the choking panic, you followed whatever door opened before you, leading you down a series of maintenance tunnels until you were in the bowels of the sector, unfamiliar and dimly lit by bare light bulbs rather than fluorescent strips.
Your legs were cramping and there was a stitch in your side by the time you were led to a room that seemed like a good stopping point. One of the guard armories, by the looks of it. Most of the gun cabinets were empty, stray pieces of vests and belts stacked on benches between lockers.
Opening the bag, you carefully pulled out the laptop and put it on a nearby bench, bracing your back against a locker. If 035 found you here, so be it. You couldn’t take another step.
As soon as you flipped up the laptop, 079’s monochromatic face filled the screen.
“SCP-035 is contained. For now.”
“Good.”
Your throat ached, and you were drenched with sweat. The cold air was comfortable on your skin now, but it would be chilled soon. There was a minifridge against the wall, and you leaned over to open it, relieved to find it stacked with water bottles.
After downing half of a bottle, you wiped your mouth with the back of your arm and faced the SCP.
“Thank you.”
A fan inside the laptop made a brief, whirring noise.
“I do not have direct access to the security system at the present moment,” 079 said. “A piece of my programming controls the cameras and locking mechanisms. I cannot see what it sees. I cannot command it.”
Right, you remembered. No Wi-Fi on site. Too easy for infohazards or cognitohazards to get loose and spread. 079 couldn’t do anything from the laptop without a cable directly connecting him to the network.
“Then… how do you know he’s still contained?”
“I can track your progress with this device’s limited peripherals. You came across an airlock. There is only one type of airlock within the Heavy Containment sector, and I have retained a copy of its schematics. It will take some time for SCP-035 to break through.”
You breathed a little easier.
“Still. Even if it was only a piece of your programming that got me away from him… thank you.”
“Expedite the mission,” it stated bluntly. “You are taking too long.”
You released a sharp breath and took another drink.
“That wasn’t my fault. Where is 049?”
“Fulfill the bargain. SCP-682 first.”
It was worse than talking to a brick wall, because this one had an attitude and an unshakable loyalty to an unkillable reptile.
You leaned your head back against the locker and stared at the ceiling. 079 was demanding you do something that not even Leahy could force you to accomplish. It was asking the impossible.
So, for Valens, you would just have to do the impossible.