For a while, it seemed as if James and the others had been blessed by a stroke of divine luck. In the ever-hostile, anomaly-infested ruins of SCP-1730, where each corridor could house a nightmare and every shadow could cloak death, the survivors somehow continued to find glimmers of hope.
First, they stumbled upon a cache of ammunition and essential supplies—still functional and mercifully untouched by anomalies. Then came the real miracle: the Tau-5 "Samsara" team, the elite unit sent by the Foundation itself, successfully located and reunited with their group.
Though the Tau-5 squad only consisted of four operatives, their very presence exuded authority and confidence. Clad in specialized gear that looked like something out of a sci-fi war movie, their appearance alone lifted the spirits of everyone present. They didn't just look like soldiers—they looked like gods of war, reborn through technology and Foundation ingenuity.
James observed the reunion quietly, his pulse finally beginning to settle. The one leading the Tau-5 unit was none other than T-5 Irantu, a stoic figure currently in deep discussion with Ross and the other team leaders. Irantu's calm demeanor and methodical speech reassured them that someone truly capable had taken the reins.
Nearby, Jack leaned in close to James and whispered in a half-jealous, half-worshipping tone, eyes glinting with wonder as he pointed at the Samsara members one by one.
"Anti-thaumaturgic ward implants… Cento-Occult-III environmental awareness system… wall-mounted high-explosive cannons… shock-absorbing leg kits… heat-resistant armor plating… adaptive SCRAMBLE ocular implants..." he muttered in awe, ticking off each enhancement as if reciting sacred scripture.
By the time Jack got to the last one, admiration had turned to thinly veiled resentment. "Damn it. And the only high-tech thing we've got is this busted SCRAMBLE device that almost fried my eyeballs last time we used it!"
Houston chuckled beside them, his voice low and amused. "Didn't you always say firepower was the greatest romance for men? What's with the sudden envy of cybernetics?"
Jack was about to snap back when Rose called out from the other end of the hallway.
"Hey! You three, get over here!"
The three of them hurried over, Jack still grumbling under his breath. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Irantu raised a hand and pointed to his comms device.
"Microphone," he said plainly.
Jack's face dropped. "Wait, we seriously have to record everything?"
From behind, someone barked, "Shut up and do it, Jack!"
"Fine, fine," Jack groaned, flipping his mic on. "You win, King Kong."
Irantu didn't react to the nickname. Instead, he nodded politely. "Thank you. Onru has just finished outlining the evacuation plan. She will brief you all."
T-5 Onru stepped forward. Unlike her fellow Samsara teammates, who wore bulky, almost mech-like armor, Onru's suit was streamlined, compact, and minimalist. It gave her an agile, ghostlike appearance compared to the others' tank-like presence.
"We lost our original extraction route," she explained, her voice calm and precise. "It was compromised by a hostile anomaly that emerged near the central data core. After discussing with Dr. Scott and his team, we've mapped out a new route—one that avoids the epicenter of the threat and keeps us out of high-risk zones, at least as much as possible."
She paused briefly, scanning the uncertain expressions around her. "Unfortunately, we don't know everything. Even Dr. Scott admits he has incomplete data on what's still alive or contained here. We'll need to remain cautious and adaptable."
Everyone stared blankly at her.
"…Did that make sense?" she asked, blinking.
"…Kind of?" Jack offered with a shrug.
Rose sighed. "We get it. There's danger everywhere. What's our next move?"
Onru raised her left arm and activated her suit's built-in projection system. A luminous 3D hologram lit up in front of them, slowly rotating in the air. It displayed the full layout of Site-13—officially known as SCP-1730.
To James, the site resembled a massive umbrella. The top was broad and complex with interwoven corridors, while a narrow, almost spear-like lower level stretched deep beneath the Earth.
"Most of the structure below ground," Onru said, "is a massive incineration zone—probably meant to destroy failed experiments or anomalies beyond control. These red zones here…" she gestured at clusters of blinking red areas, "…are marked as extremely hazardous."
In truth, nearly the entire map glowed red.
"There's no truly safe place left," she said bluntly.
Pointing at a green dot, she continued, "This is where we came in. From here, we'll move toward this white-marked sector—the Thresher Wing. According to Dr. Scott and Captain Hollis, that's where the spatial destabilization is originating. The Thresher Device is there."
James narrowed his eyes. "What's that device do?"
"It manipulates space—possibly even dimensions," Onru answered. "We can't destroy it without risking total collapse. But if we can disrupt its power source, we might stabilize the path enough to escape."
Hollis, the leader of Zeta-9 "Mole," stepped forward, his expression grim. "I ended up near that area earlier. Got ambushed by… something. Insect-like creatures, winged. I think they carried anti-memetic traits."
"Antimemes?" Ross frowned. "Meaning we can't retain information about them?"
Hollis nodded. "Yeah. Even now, I can barely describe them. But I remember one thing clearly—they fed on the energy being channeled into the Thresher Device. Whatever they are, they've nested near it."
Irantu took over again. "Here's how we'll split up: Tau-5 will secure key junctions. Zeta-9 handles flanks. Epsilon-11, our Nine-Tailed Fox squad, will cover the rear. Survivors and support personnel, you're in the middle."
He paused, eyeing each squad leader. "In case we're pursued or flanked, initiate a standard staggered defense maneuver. Tau-5 will intercept high-level threats."
Ross added firmly, "Keep chatter off the comms unless it's vital. Tau-5 and command leads have comms priority. Don't waste bandwidth—there'll be time for talk when we're on the surface."
Jack mockingly saluted. "Copy that, boss."
As the survivors began organizing and gearing up to move, a sudden tension rippled through the air. James, positioned near the back, noticed something unusual.
"…Wait," he whispered, then raised his voice. "Something's moving by the door!"
Everyone turned to look.
From the cracks in the reinforced steel wall, a thick black fluid began to ooze, glistening under the flashlight beams. At first glance, it resembled oil—slick, slow-moving, and strangely viscous.
But then it moved.
Not flowed—moved.
Wriggling. Crawling.
James's stomach turned. It wasn't oil at all. It was alive.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of tiny, glistening black leeches slithered out from the wall fissures, merging into larger, pulsating clusters. Some were no bigger than his fingernail; others swelled to the size of a fist.
He swept his shoulder-mounted light across the corridor—and saw even more.
The walls, floors, and ceiling had begun to darken, as though the site itself were bleeding. All around, black leeches poured from unseen cracks and vents like a grotesque tide.
Onru reacted first, her tone sharp and composed despite the horror.
"They're all over the site," she informed James quietly. "They nest inside the infrastructure. Spread through microfractures."
Ross visibly shuddered. "Sh*t. Irantu, we've got to backtrack."
Irantu nodded. "Agreed."
He turned to the others. "Munru. Nanku. Prep the charges. We're blowing that door—now."
The two Samsara operatives moved fast, setting up compact high-yield explosives along the door frame. As they worked, the rest of the team stood guard, watching in mute horror as the leeches multiplied before their eyes.
James stepped back, breathing heavily as he watched the swarm creep toward them. The creatures weren't just leaking through the cracks anymore—they were expanding them, burrowing, gnawing, forcing openings wider.
The walls were splitting apart. The foundation was bleeding.
And hell was pouring through.
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