(alpha, beta, gamma, delta)
alpha - leader
beta - nerd
gamma - veteran
delta - soldier
<Video feed shows Mu-7 standing around SCP-XXXX.>
CONTROL: Radio check.
DELTA: Check.
GAMMA: Check.
BETA: Check.
ALPHA: Check. All clear.
CONTROL: Alright, let's take this nice and slow. You can start working on the hatch.
ALPHA: Delta, you're on point. Gamma, you're up.
<GAMMA detaches the extendable arm-module from the back of his pack and approaches SPC-XXXX's hatch.>
GAMMA: Connecting arm-module.
<GAMMA attaches the arm-module to SCP-XXXX's hatch.>
ALPHA: Nice and easy.
GAMMA: Connected. Unlocking hatch.
<GAMMA turns the arm-module. The hatch opens, slowly lifting.>
CONTROL: Report?
ALPHA: We're good, Control.
BETA: Twenty bucks says Mayans built it.
ALPHA: Cut the chatter. Alright, Beta, Gamma — cable.
GAMMA: Got it.
<GAMMA retrieves a large anchor module from the mobile lander. BETA attaches a cable to it, tugging twice to ensure it is secure.>
BETA: You're good.
ALPHA: Drop it. Nice and slow.
<GAMMA approaches the open hatch, lowering the module down the shaft. BETA operates the cable winch.>
ALPHA: Control? You getting anything?
CONTROL: One minute. Waiting for output from the module.
BETA: 2 meters.
CONTROL: Alright, yeah. Same as before. Nothing from the Geiger counter. Hume levels are… a little higher than expected.
BETA: 5 meters.
ALPHA: Higher?
CONTROL: Yeah. Eggheads are saying that's unusual, but not 'uh-oh' unusual.
ALPHA: Elaborate?
CONTROL: Low would be bad. High is just unexpected.
BETA: 10 meters.
ALPHA: Understood. Any imagery on the camera?
CONTROL: Smooth concrete shaft. Some sort of steel rail mounted on the wall, probably for an elevator.
BETA: 15 meters.
ALPHA: Alright. Once we're clear, Delta, Beta, and me will go down the shaft. Gamma, you'll stay up here and keep point. Understood?
DELTA: Yes ma'am.
BETA: 20 meters. Yep.
GAMMA: Check.
ALPHA: Good. Alright. Standing by.
BETA: 25 meters.
BETA: 30 meters.
BETA: 35 meters.
BETA: 40 meters.
BETA: 45 meters.
GAMMA: Christ.
ALPHA: Just call it out by multiples of twenty, Beta.
BETA: Right.
BETA: 60 meters.
BETA: 80 meters.
BETA: 100 meters.
BETA: 120 meters.
DELTA: Looks like we're gonna need a bigger ship.
GAMMA: Heh.
ALPHA: Hush.
BETA: 140 meters.
BETA: 160 meters.
BETA: And… 164 meters. We've hit bottom. Locking winch.
ALPHA: Control?
CONTROL: One minute. Waiting on data.
CONTROL: Yep, all readings look good here. There's an entry room down there, looks like an airlock, maybe.
ALPHA: Understood. Descending. Delta, you next; then Beta.
DELTA: Affirmative.
<ALPHA connects her electromagnetic zip-line to the cable and descends. She is followed by DELTA, then BETA.>
<ALPHA, DELTA, and BETA land. The entry chamber for SCP-XXXX is a large, rectangular room approximately 5 meters by 6 meters, with a height of 3 meters. The room is constructed of concrete, and contains a reinforced steel doorway. The doorway is currently open.>
ALPHA: We've touched bottom, Control.
CONTROL: Confirmed. We're — (static) — problems with receiving you clearly through — (static) — proceed with caution.
ALPHA: Understood.
<ALPHA, DELTA, and BETA retrieve several pieces of crucial equipment from the anchor module. This includes hand-held multi-stage ferromagnetic coil-guns.>
ALPHA: Alright. Slow and easy. We're heading in. Lights on.
<ALPHA enters through the steel door. The interior hallway is illuminated by her team's shoulder-mounted lights. A pane of glass to the left reveals the interior of a darkened security room. Its entrance is closed.>
BETA: This is like the opening to Aliens.
DELTA: Is that the one where the marines get eaten by space monsters?
BETA: Uh, yeah.
ALPHA: Beta?
BETA: Yes, ma'am?
ALPHA: Be quiet.
BETA: Yes, ma'am.
<ALPHA briefly attempts to open the door to the security room, but finds it locked. She continues to move down the hall.>
<A faint, repetitive red light can be seen flashing in the distance. Warning signs are posted on the wall.>
DELTA: Huh. These're in English.
ALPHA: Guess it's not GRU-P, then. Beta, take pictures of the signs.
BETA: Yes, ma'am.
<BETA's feed turns to the walls. He begins taking pictures of warning notices mounted there.>
ALPHA: Control, you still hearing us?
CONTROL: (static)
ALPHA: Figures.
<As ALPHA continues forward, a humanoid silhouette can be seen slouched on the floor to the right of the hallway.>
ALPHA: You see that?
DELTA: Yep.
ALPHA: Check it out. Be careful. I'll cover.
<DELTA approaches the shape as ALPHA takes aim with her coilgun. It soon becomes clear that it is a human in a security uniform. Frost covers his face and body. DELTA crouches down to examine him closer.>
DELTA: Shit.
ALPHA: What is it?
<DELTA shifts the corpse over to bring its sleeve into the light. A Foundation patch is visible.>
DELTA: Looks like one of ours.
ALPHA: What?
<ALPHA approaches DELTA.>
<BETA's feed cuts out.>
DELTA: Died from no atmosphere, I guess?
ALPHA: Shit. Control, if you can hear this — we're seeing dead Foundation personnel down here.
BETA: Shit.
<DELTA turns to face BETA, who's still at the front of the hall.>
DELTA: You alright?
BETA: I think I just lost feed. You can still hear me, right?
ALPHA: Yes.
BETA: Okay. Good. Yeah, my feed just went dead. Shit.
ALPHA: Alright, we're leaving. Delta, grab the corpse's ID card, we'll take it back with us.
DELTA: Understood.
<DELTA carefully lifts the ID card from the guard's neck. As he does, the head sinks. This reveals the large hole in the anterior portion of the skull. He shines the light into this hole, revealing the interior to be hollow.>
DELTA: Holy fuck.
ALPHA: What is it?
DELTA: His, uh. His brains are missing.
ALPHA: What?
BETA: Shit.
<DELTA places the ID card into a belt-pouch.>
DELTA: Alright, let's get the hell out of here.
BETA: Shit. Yeah, let's go.
<ALPHA watches BETA as he turns back to the entrance chamber.>
ALPHA: Wait.
DELTA: Hm?
ALPHA: Beta, stop for a second.
BETA: Huh?
<ALPHA points her coilgun at BETA.>
BETA: Uh — what — what the hell?
DELTA: Alpha?
ALPHA: His insignia, Delta. Look at it.
DELTA: What — oh. Oh, shit.
BETA: What are you talking about?
ALPHA: It's inverted.
<DELTA points his coilgun at BETA.>
ALPHA: What are you?
BETA: You've got to be — it's always been like that, alright? They made it backwards by accident. I just never cared enough to get it fixed.
ALPHA: I'm not going to repeat myself. Giving you five seconds. Five.
DELTA: Uh —
BETA: Jesus! Delta! She's gone fucking nuts!
ALPHA: Four.
<BETA lifts his hands.>
BETA: Look, I'm not resisting. Just stop. Please.
ALPHA: Three.
BETA: Delta! She's going to fucking kill me because they put my insignia on backwards!
ALPHA: Two.
DELTA: Alpha, maybe we should —
<DELTA lowers his coilgun.>
BETA: For the love of God I'm not —
ALPHA: One.
<ALPHA places three rounds into BETA's upper torso. The impacts are silent. BETA stumbles back; his suit appears to undergo rapid decompression.>
<DELTA points his railgun at ALPHA.>
DELTA: Have you lost your fucking mind?!
ALPHA: Watch.
<DELTA keeps the coilgun pointed at ALPHA, but observes BETA.>
<BETA lands on the floor, motionless. He makes no movements.>
DELTA: I'm fucking watching, Alpha.
ALPHA: Just… watch.
<DELTA continues watching.>
ALPHA: It — it wasn't him — I was —
DELTA: You just fucking killed him. You just fucking killed him, Alpha.
ALPHA: He doesn't curse. I've been working with him for a year, he doesn't curse, he —
DELTA: You killed him because his insignia was on backwards and he had a potty mouth?
ALPHA: I… oh, fuck. Jesus fuck. I thought — but —
<DELTA lowers his coilgun.>
DELTA: Okay. Okay, look, just… Okay. Calm down. Stay calm.
<BETA's camera feed returns. Illumination is low. Three pale, human-like faces stare down at him. Two of them hold BETA down. The camera bobs and weaves, as if silently struggling.>
DELTA: We'll… figure this out. We need to get back topside. Right now.
ALPHA: I was, I was so — so sure, I… oh, fuck.
<DELTA approaches ALPHA and urges her toward the exit. They move together toward BETA's corpse.>
DELTA: Stay calm. It's okay. Let's focus on getting topside, okay?
<The third face descends toward BETA's feed. It extends a tongue-like appendage above the camera; presumably into BETA's visor. The bobbing motions grow significantly more violent for the next eight seconds before ceasing entirely.>
ALPHA: I… okay. Okay. I, I… fuck, this is — I'm done.
<DELTA continues urging ALPHA forward.>
DELTA: Don't think about it. We just have to get out of here alive. We —
<BETA's feed goes out again.>
COMMAND: (static) —is not Beta. I repeat, we — (static) — his feed is — (static) — repeat, NOT Beta — (static)
<DELTA and ALPHA turn to BETA's body. It spasms and contorts. ALPHA and DELTA both raise their coilguns; six more rounds are lodged into the body.>
<The body's contortions cease. It expands into a new form, apearing as a nude humanoid covered in frost. It is significantly larger than a human; muscular, hairless, and without discernible genitalia.>
DELTA: Holy fuck.
ALPHA: Fucking KNEW it.
DELTA: Holy fuck. We are getting the fuck out of here.
<ALPHA and DELTA move past the body and back into the main chamber. They attach their magnetic zip-lines to the cable and proceed to move upward. Once topside, they severe the cable and close the hatch.>
<Green's video feed shows Mu-7 standing around SCP-XXXX.>
GREEN: Radio check.
RED: Check.
YELLOW: Check.
BLUE: Check.
GREEN: Clear. Red, you're on point. Yellow, you're up.
<Yellow detaches the extendable arm-module from the back of his pack and approaches SCP-XXXX's hatch.>
YELLOW: Connecting arm-module.
<Yellow attaches the arm-module to SCP-XXXX's hatch.>
GREEN: Nice and easy.
YELLOW: Connected. Unlocking hatch.
<Yellow turns the arm-module. The hatch opens, slowly lifting.>
BLUE: Twenty bucks says Mayans built it.
GREEN: Cut the chatter. Alright, Blue, Yellow — cable.
YELLOW: Got it.
<Yellow retrieves a large anchor module from the mobile lander. Blue attaches a cable to it, tugging twice to ensure it is secure.>
BLUE: You're good.
GREEN: Drop it. Nice and slow.
<Yellow approaches the open hatch, lowering the module down the shaft. Blue operates the cable winch.>
GREEN: Red, anything?
<Red examines an output panel on the mobile lander.>
RED: One minute. Waiting for output from the module.
BLUE: 2 meters.
RED: Alright, yeah. Nothing from the Geiger counter. Hume levels are… a little higher than expected.
BLUE: 5 meters.
GREEN: Higher?
RED: Yeah. That's unusual, but not 'uh-oh' unusual.
GREEN: Elaborate?
RED: Low would be bad. High is just unexpected.
BLUE: 10 meters.
GREEN: Understood. Any imagery on the camera?
RED: Smooth shaft. Walls are a little irregular.
BLUE: 15 meters.
GREEN: Alright. Once we're clear, Red, Blue, and me will go down the shaft. Yellow, you'll stay up here and keep point. Understood?
RED: Yes ma'am.
BLUE: 20 meters. Yep.
YELLOW: Check.
GREEN: Good. Alright. Standing by.
BLUE: 25 meters.
BLUE: 30 meters.
BLUE: 35 meters.
BLUE: 40 meters.
BLUE: 45 meters.
YELLOW: Christ.
GREEN: Just call it out by multiples of twenty, Blue.
BLUE: Right.
BLUE: 60 meters.
BLUE: 80 meters.
BLUE: 100 meters.
BLUE: 120 meters.
RED: Looks like we're gonna need a bigger ship.
YELLOW: Heh.
GREEN: Hush.
BLUE: 140 meters.
BLUE: 160 meters.
BLUE: And… 164 meters. We've hit bottom. Locking winch.
GREEN: Red?
RED: One minute. Waiting on data.
RED: Yep, all readings look good here. There's an entry room down there. Looks… strange.
GREEN: Use your words.
RED: Organic, kind of.
GREEN: Understood. Descending. Yellow, you next; then Blue.
YELLOW: Affirmative.
<Green connects her electromagnetic zip-line to the cable and descends. She is followed by Yellow, then Blue.>
<Green descends for approximately 30 seconds. She lands inside an entry chamber; a large, circulara space approximately 12 meters in diameter and 4 meters in height. Regularly spaced 'growths' along the walls provide illumination; three corridors branch out in differnt directions.
Green moves aside, waiting. Yellow lands, followed shortly by Blue.>
GREEN: We've touched bottom, Red.
RED: Confirmed. I'm — (static) — problems with receiving you clearly through — (static)
GREEN: Understood.
<Green retrieves several pieces of crucial equipment from the anchor module alongside Yellow and Blue. This includes hand-held multi-stage ferromagnetic coil-guns.>
GREEN: Alright. Slow and easy. Lights on.
<Green checks her wrist-mounted display, then enters the northern corridor. The area is illuminated by the lights of her team behind her. The walls appear like metallic bark; knots and bulges are visible.>
BLUE: This is like something H. R. Giger would make.
YELLOW: Who's that?
BLUE: Y'know, the guy who did Aliens?
YELLOW: Is that the movie where the marines get eaten by space monsters?
BLUE: Uh, yeah.
GREEN: Blue?
BLUE: Yes, ma'am?
GREEN: Be quiet.
BLUE: Yes, ma'am. Sorry.
<A figure is slouched against the wall up ahead.>
GREEN: Fuck. You both see that?
YELLOW: Ayup.
BLUE: Yes, ma'am.
GREEN: Yellow, check it out. I'll cover you.
<Green points her coil-gun at the figure as Yellow approaches. Yellow pauses, crouching next to the figure to examine it.>
YELLOW: Uh. Well, okay. This isn't human.
<Green closes in, keeping her coil-gun pointed at it. As she approaches, the figure can be made out. It is significantly larger than a humaan; nude, hairless, muscular, and without discernible genitalia. Webs of frost cover it from heada to toe.>
GREEN: The hell is this?
YELLOW: I don't know, but I think I know what killed it.
<Yellow gently nudges its head forward. There is a large hole in the anterior portion of the skull. Yellow shines her light into it.>
YELLOW: Brain's missing.
GREEN: You sure it even had one? You said it's not human.
YELLOW: Well, whatever it is, I'm pretty sure the skull shouldn't be hollow.
GREEN: Right. Red, you reading us?
RED: (static)
GREEN: Figures. Get samples, Yellow. Blue —
<Green turns. Blue is gone.>
GREEN: Shit. Blue, report.
<BLUE: Blue enters the security terminal, approaching the hallway. The shadows rush toward him.>
BLUE: What —
<BLUE: Blue's feed cuts out.>
<GREEN: Green carefully lifts the ID card from the guard's neck. As she does, the head sinks. This reveals a large hole in the anterior portion of the skull. She shines her light into this hole, revealing the interior to be hollow.>
GREEN: Shit.
<BLUE: His feed returns. He is on the floor, staring upward. A pale face stares down at him. His camera begins to bob and weave, as if silently struggling.>
RED: Blue?
BLUE: Uh, yeah.
<RED: He steps in front of the door. The security terminal and hallway are the same. No sign of Blue.>
RED: Where are you?
<BLUE: His camera's motions become increasingly frantic. The pale face sinks toward him.>
BLUE: Got it.
RED: Huh?
GREEN: Red, this guy's brain is missing.
<BLUE: The camera's motions become violent, then suddenly stop. The feed cuts out.>
RED: Wait, what? Also, Blue, where the hell did you go?
GREEN: You can't find —? Blue, report.
BLUE: Absolutely.
<GREEN: She tucks the ID card into a pouch, then rises and approaches the door where Red is standing. She lifts her coil-gun.>
GREEN: Blue, tell me where you are right now. This is an order.
BLUE: This is like the opening to Aliens.
RED: What the fuck?
GREEN: Is that — that's not him.
RED: It's repeating his transmissions.
BLUE: Yes ma'am. Sorry.
CONTROL: (static) — return. Can you — (static) — feed is dead. We think he's been — (static)
GREEN: Fucking…
RED: Shit.
GREEN:
<RED: Red lifts his coil-gun and steps inside of the security terminal. As Red enters, a portion of Blue's suit can be seen behind the terminal.>
RED: Shit! Blue, are —
<RED: Red's feed goes out.>
<BLUE: Blue's feed goes out.>
<GREEN: Green begins moving toward the security terminal.>
GREEN: Red! Blue! Report, NOW!
RED: Is that the one where the marines get eaten by space monsters?
<GREEN: Green stops at the entrance to the security terminal.>
<RED: Red's feed returns. He is watching Green from the end of the hallway, where the red light is flashing. He begins to silently struggle.>
GREEN: Red, where the — fuck. What the fuck is going on?
BLUE: Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am.
RED: Looks like one of ours.
GREEN: What?
<GREEN approaches RED.>
<BLUE's feed cuts out.>
RED: Died from no atmosphere, I guess?
GREEN: Shit. Control, if you can hear this — we're seeing dead Foundation personnel down here.
BLUE: Shit.
<RED turns to face BLUE, who's still at the front of the hall.>
RED: You alright?
BLUE: I think I just lost feed. You can still hear me, right?
GREEN: Yes.
BLUE: Okay. Good. Yeah, my feed just went dead. Shit.
GREEN: Alright, we're leaving. Red, grab the corpse's ID card, we'll take it back with us.
RED: Understood.
<RED carefully lifts the ID card from the guard's neck. As he does, the head sinks. This reveals the large hole in the anterior portion of the skull. He shines the light into this hole, revealing the interior to be hollow.>
RED: Holy fuck.
GREEN: What is it?
RED: His, uh. His brains are missing.
GREEN: What?
BLUE: Shit.
<RED places the ID card into a belt-pouch.>
RED: Alright, let's get the hell out of here.
BLUE: Shit. Yeah, let's go.
<GREEN watches BLUE as he turns back to the entrance chamber.>
GREEN: Wait.
RED: Hm?
GREEN: Blue, stop for a second.
BLUE: Huh?
<GREEN points her coilgun at BLUE.>
BLUE: Uh — what — what the hell?
RED: Green?
GREEN: His insignia, Red. Look at it.
RED: What — oh. Oh, shit.
BLUE: What are you talking about?
GREEN: It's inverted.
<RED points his coilgun at BLUE.>
GREEN: What are you?
BLUE: You've got to be — it's always been like that, alright? They made it backwards by accident. I just never cared enough to get it fixed.
GREEN: I'm not going to repeat myself. Giving you five seconds. Five.
RED: Uh —
BLUE: Jesus! Red! She's gone fucking nuts!
GREEN: Four.
<BLUE lifts his hands.>
BLUE: Look, I'm not resisting. Just stop. Please.
GREEN: Three.
BLUE: Red! She's going to fucking kill me because they put my insignia on backwards!
GREEN: Two.
RED: Green, maybe we should —
<RED lowers his coilgun.>
BLUE: For the love of God I'm not —
GREEN: One.
<GREEN places three rounds into BLUE's upper torso. The impacts are silent. BLUE stumbles back; his suit appears to undergo rapid decompression.>
<RED points his railgun at GREEN.>
RED: Have you lost your fucking mind?!
GREEN: Watch.
<RED keeps the coilgun pointed at GREEN, but observes BLUE.>
<BLUE lands on the floor, motionless. He makes no movements.>
RED: I'm fucking watching, Green.
GREEN: Just… watch.
<RED continues watching.>
GREEN: It — it wasn't him — I was —
RED: You just fucking killed him. You just fucking killed him, Green.
GREEN: He doesn't curse. I've been working with him for a year, he doesn't curse, he —
RED: You killed him because his insignia was on backwards and he had a potty mouth?
GREEN: I… oh, fuck. Jesus fuck. I thought — but —
<RED lowers his coilgun.>
RED: Okay. Okay, look, just… Okay. Calm down. Stay calm.
<BLUE's camera feed returns. Illumination is low. Three pale, human-like faces stare down at him. Two of them hold BLUE down. The camera bobs and weaves, as if silently struggling.>
RED: We'll… figure this out. We need to get back topside. Right now.
GREEN: I was, I was so — so sure, I… oh, fuck.
<RED approaches GREEN and urges her toward the exit. They move together toward BLUE's corpse.>
RED: Stay calm. It's okay. Let's focus on getting topside, okay?
<The third face descends toward BLUE's feed. It extends a tongue-like appendage above the camera; presumably into BLUE's visor. The bobbing motions grow significantly more violent for the next eight seconds before ceasing entirely.>
GREEN: I… okay. Okay. I, I… fuck, this is — I'm done.
<RED continues urging GREEN forward.>
RED: Don't think about it. We just have to get out of here alive. We —
<BLUE's feed goes out again.>
COMMAND: (static) —is not Blue. I repeat, we — (static) — his feed is — (static) — repeat, NOT Blue — (static)
<RED and GREEN turn to BLUE's body. It spasms and contorts. GREEN and RED both raise their coilguns; six more rounds are lodged into the body.>
<The body's contortions cease. It expands into a new form, apearing as a nude humanoid covered in frost. It is significantly larger than a human; muscular, hairless, and without discernible genitalia.>
RED: Holy fuck.
GREEN: Fucking KNEW it.
RED: Holy fuck. We are getting the fuck out of here.
<GREEN and RED move past the body and back into the main chamber. They attach their magnetic zip-lines to the cable and proceed to move upward. Once topside, they severe the cable and close the hatch.>
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