Chapter Text
The sirens had been blaring for at least half an hour now, indicating that Cimmerian and everyone else at the site would be in this one for the long haul.
It had started rather suddenly, as these sorts of things usually did, thankfully catching him right before he stepped out the door for his lunch break, the damned door nearly taking his arm off as it slammed shut only a foot or two in front of him.
He’d already taken care to fetch the gun from his desk along with the small radio to hear any updates on the situation, quickly checking his phone to ensure that Dr. Gerald hadn’t been caught out in the breach and received a miraculously quick text back reassuring him of his safety.
After that, it had merely become a waiting game.
He knew better than to open the door and wander out in the middle of a breach; he rather liked keeping his head on his shoulders, thank-you-very-much.
Unfortunately, as he paced back and forth through his office with his phone in one hand and the gun in the other, it became quickly clear that this was not a sentiment shared by everyone when he heard some distant muffled shouting from the hallway just outside.
He continued pacing, the radio having just sounded that two instances of SCP-939 were only a few turns down the hallway and any attempts to try and rescue the poor soul caught in the hallway would likely spell certain death for everyone involved.
So, quietly, he resumed pacing as he listened carefully to the voice growing closer, a frantic but distant pounding sound being heard every few seconds as the person desperately tried banging on doors.
He couldn’t help but feel somewhat bad for them.
It was only when the shouts grew even more frantic and he heard the sharp pounding at his own door that he froze.
“Please, someone help us,” The person pleaded on the opposite side, banging sharply on the door in a frantic and choked voice.
Cimmerian froze, staring at the door in silence, even when the banging stopped and he heard two sets of footsteps quickly darting away. He blinked, swearing that he had heard two distinct people.
Two instances of SCP-939…
Two sets of footsteps…
However, he had sworn that he had only heard one set of banging.
He hesitated before moving towards the door, cautiously pressing the ‘View’ button as he watched the small digital screen flicker to life, showing what was just beyond the door.
Sure enough, he could see two people, both fitted in the standard white lab coats, one banging sharply on the door across from Cimmerian while the other lingered just nearby, anxiously peering down the hall as if keeping watch for any of the creatures.
Cimmerian hesitated, stepping back for a moment.
He couldn’t see either of the SCP-939’s. That meant that the creatures must be far enough away that he would have at least a few seconds to call the two researchers into the safety of the room before any of them could be reached.
It was risky but… Possible. Easily possible.
He hesitated one final moment as he watched the researchers start to turn away from the opposite door. If they kept running, they would just go straight into the dead end at the end of the hall and would undoubtedly be picked off with ease.
He slammed his fist against the button and stepped halfway out of his office as he cupped a hand to the side of his mouth, his other hand clinging tightly to the gun. “Come on! Get inside!”
The two researchers only momentarily hesitated before sprinting towards him and darted into the room frantically, Cimmerian swiping his access card through the scanner and locking it shut, closing the three of them in the bolted office.
“I-” One of the researchers began, taking a moment to double over as they tried to regain their breath. “Thank you! Thank you so much, we thought those things had spotted us! Oh my god, I thought we were going to die, for sure!”
“Did they?” Cimmerian snapped, stepping around them and looking back at the small video screen, nothing seeming to have changed outside of the room. “See you, I mean?”
“Uh-” The same young researcher said, looking at the one beside them who was similarly trying to catch her breath, the woman giving a small shrug. “We don’t think so,” The young researcher said, looking back at Cimmerian.
Cimmerian gave a small sigh of relief, feeling a gentle buzz from his pocket.
Removing his phone, he glanced at the screen as another buzz arrived. “Christ,” He mumbled to himself. “Give me one second,” He told the two as he flicked to his messages just as another text arrived, Dr. Gerald lighting up his phone with questions of what the shouting was. Quickly, he texted him back, telling the man to not worry about it before sighing again and beginning to tuck his phone back in his jacket before hesitating and pulling it back out as he clicked Clef’s contact.
He knew that the person had never been solitary during these kinds of things. Clef was always one of the first people to run out in the middle of a breach to try and gain some semblance of control back. He couldn’t help but worry about him, even if he knew that they were fine.
He tucked his phone away and looked back up at the two researchers, the young male watching the video feed carefully while the older woman’s eyes flickered across the room, taking in her surroundings.
“Why were you both even out there?” Cimmerian asked somewhat pointedly. He understood that mistakes happened and sometimes a researcher lost their card in the middle of a breach, but for two to happen in one breach? Frankly, that was a bit surprising.
The young male opened his mouth to say something before giving a sheepish smile. “I’m not from this hall,” He explained. “I was delivering some papers to Dr.Mayson, I—uh—I lost those pretty quick while trying to run for my life.” He explained politely.
A reasonable story. Unfortunately, most of the senior researchers here paid little mind to those that they considered ‘below’ them.
His gaze flickered to the older woman expectantly, figuring that she would tell her story any moment now. However, he quickly noticed that her gaze was still drifting across the room, almost as if she was uninterested in the conversation.
“What about you?” Cimmerian asked after a moment of hesitation, her eyes flicking up to his where they stayed .
“Oh!” The junior researcher started. “I ran into her a couple of minutes ago while running. I—ehm—sorry, what’s your name?” He asked, looking at the woman.
She didn’t look back at him though, her gaze focussed solely on Cimmerian.
There was something weird about her. Something about the way her eyes didn’t shift in the slightest, as if trying to bore their way straight through Cimmerian’s skull.
“I asked her.” Cimmerian said flatly as he stared at the woman, uncertain of whether or not to trust his instincts that were quickly growing louder and louder, screaming at him to get out of here and that the safety of his office had been infiltrated the moment he opened the door.
She stared back at him, silent as death.
He stared back.
His grip on his gun tightened.
She wasn’t human.
He stepped back sharply as he began to raise his gun.
She wasn’t even partially human.
The woman started to lunge straight for him, Cimmerian barely registering the young researcher’s noise of surprise.
She was not interested in ethics, murder, or life in general.
Cimmerian squeezed the trigger as fast as he could as the woman’s arm swiped at the gun, pushing it sharply to the side just as the loud shot rang across the entire office, nearly deafening all noises around them.
She’d just seen an opportunity and had taken it.
Bang!
The gun was crooked. The shot still fired. The bullet left the muzzle of the gun only to strike the nearby junior researcher, the young man barely having a second to yelp in surprise before the bullet entered the right side of his face—just above the eyebrow, the man slumping only moments later.
Cimmerian’s eye widened but he had little time to react, trying to wrench the gun out of her grip as the SCP slammed straight into him, hearing a dull crack as the back of his head hit the wall and he felt his fingers sharply loosen for only half a second.
Perfectly enough time for the creature to wrench the gun downwards and force her finger straight over Cimmerian’s, squeezing tightly.
Bang!
He couldn’t help but cry out as the bullet struck him straight in his bent knee, causing him to start to crumple if not for the woman’s attempt to slam him back into the wall in another attempt to wrench the gun from him, Cimmerian thankfully clinging to the gun as he tried to force it back upwards while using the wall to brace himself.
Bang! Bang!
The sounds barely registered, Cimmerian briefly dreading a spike of pain each time the shots rang out. Fortunately, the sharp agonizing stab of pain never came as one of the shots struck the woman in the side, the other hitting the opposite wall.
She jabbed her finger back over his again, expression twisting into one of absolute and almost animalistic rage.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Silence.
At least from the gun.
Cimmerian’s ears were ringing enough that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear a shot even if it had been fired.
Each bullet struck the opposite wall before only a soft clicking silence followed, indicating that it had finally run out of ammo, the SCP having wasted each and every one of his shots.
In a foolish but panicked moment of shock, his fingers slackened, the creature ripping the gun from him and whipping it across his face before slamming her foot into his knee, causing him another awful jolt of pain to overwhelm him, the doctor letting out a muffled yelp through his teeth as he tried to push her away.
The woman grabbed him by the front of his jacket, ripping something from his neck and knocking him into the ground in the process. Swiping whatever she had taken against the pad by the door, he froze as he heard the noise, it only taking a moment to register the cold metallic noise of the door sliding open before the creature spun back around to him, throwing him from the room.
The agonized noise died in his throat when his knee slammed directly into the cold ground, his entire leg lighting up with pain.
Before he could drag himself up or even curse the creature, it slid the card back over the panel, the door slamming shut within a split second, blocking him from the supposed safety of his office and causing him to freeze in shock just outside the door.
He blinked in horror, staring at the cold metal, knowing that it would not open for him without a card.
Slowly, the irony of it all began to sink in.
He tried to steady his breathing.
He was locked out—
—during a breach—
—with a bum leg—
—and no weapon.
Fuck.