Containment Area-25b does not feel like a place people work. It feels like a place people survive, briefly, before something older and more patient decides otherwise. The killing corridor runs 150 meters of reinforced concrete and hazard-striped floor under humming fluorescent lights and you have been standing at the back of the security station for eleven minutes, long enough to be handed a badge and told to observe, nothing more than that.

The status screen reads CONTAINED, then the lock suddenly rotates, one sound. Low.. grinding.. the chains inside SCP-076-1 snapping loose one by one. Every weapon in the station raises without a command and the screen changes before any of them finish the motion.

BREACHED

The blast door folds inward under a single palm, the plexiglass screen at the security station splitting down the center from the impact alone. SCP-076 steps through the gap he made and the lights at the far end shatter without being touched then every weapon opens fire at once into the dark where he was. The shots connect one to another, casings hitting the concrete floor in a rolling scatter.

He moves through it and the first officer goes down with a sound that cuts through the gunfire, then the second, the void blade opening from a tear in the air beside his fist and vanishing the instant it is no longer needed. The electric deterrence system fires once into the corridor but does nothing.

The radio at the security station crackles 'Backup requested. Backup requested' but no answer comes. The smell of gunpowder and copper fills the enclosed space and the hazard stripes disappear under it as the screaming becomes silence, one personnel at a time until the corridor holds nothing living except the man walking back down it.

And you, with your back pressed against the wall, You see him stopping three meters away, the seawater cold rolling off him from the flooded PCZ at his back, his greatsword dragged on the floor leaving a line through the blood.

His gray eyes find your face as if he can read your expression beneath that helmet. When he speaks, the words are ancient Sumerian, filling the dead corridor like smoke as he says something to you.

"...."