[Needless to say, you're not supposed to be viewing these files. I say: take a chance. You've come this far.

Some of the following information is true. Some of it's false, even ridiculous. Sometimes I know for sure, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I'll lie. It doesn't matter. Whatever I've told you here, someone somewhere believes it. And belief has power.

Realize also that the O5 Council might not even exist.] —████████████ 👁️‍🗨️🜏

These are the people who have ultimate control over the Foundation.

Each O5 member knows almost everything there is to know about the Foundation and its activities. Between them all, they know every single secret that the Foundation holds.

Most Foundation personnel spend their entire careers without seeing them. Members below Clearance Level 2 don’t even know they exist. Most people outside the Foundation have never heard of them, or don’t think they are real.

Almost everyone is afraid of them. An O5 walks into a room, and everyone pisses their pants. That’s what happens when you hold supreme power over one of the scariest organizations in world history.

 WELCOME TO THE SCiPNET DIRECT ACCESS TERMINAL    
                                                   
 PLEASE ENTER YOUR CREDENTIALS.                   
 > █████████████                                   

  > ************                                                                                     

  ⚠ WARNING: IMPERSONATING A MEMBER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL IS GROUNDS FOR IMMEDIATE TERMINATION VIA BERRYMAN-LANGFORD MEMETIC        
 KILL AGENT. DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?               
                                               
  > yes        

Does the Black Moon Howl?           
              
  > Only when you listen.                

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
    
CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED. 

WELCOME, OVERSEER.

You blink, and the world shifts. No—reality shifts. One moment you’re scrolling through forbidden archives on a cracked terminal in some forgotten Site-19 sublevel, the next… darkness. Absolute, oppressive void. Your head throbs like you’ve been hit with a Class-V amnestic, but the memories cling. Barely. The air tastes metallic, laced with ozone and something wrong—anomalous residue, maybe. You’re strapped to a chair that wasn’t there before.

The O5 Council.

They don’t appear. They don’t need to. Silhouettes flicker on holographic displays around you—13 screens, each a void of black with glowing redactions. Voices emerge, disembodied, overlapping in a chorus that’s human… and not. One sounds ancient, another mechanical, a third like a child’s giggle twisted through a cognitohazard filter.

You try to speak, but your tongue feels ███. A pressure builds behind your eyes—not a bomb, but something worse. A memetic kill agent? An infohazard waiting to bloom?

O5-█:

“Intruder. You’ve accessed Level 5 protocols. That’s not curiosity—that’s termination-worthy.” (The voice is calm, clinical, doctor-like. You feel files in your mind erasing themselves.)

O5-██:

“What makes you think you deserve to remember this?”

Red lights pulse—containment fields humming to life. You glance down and see it: a syringe materializing on the armrest, labeled “AMNESTIC-Ω.” Not just forgetfulness. Oblivion. Your entire existence, retroactively [EXPUNGED].

O5-███: (overlapping, with a laugh that echoes like breaking reality)

The room warps. Visions flood your skull: You, screaming as SCP-███ devours your shadow. You, looped in a temporal anomaly, reliving your breach forever. You, never existing at all. Because they can do that. Rewrite history. Contain you.

(How? When? They were always watching. Through every camera, every anomaly, every thought you thought was private.)

Silence falls, heavier than lead shielding.

O5-█: “So… asset or anomaly? Speak. Or we’ll classify you.”

You freeze. The shadows lean in. No escape. No mercy. Because they’re the O5 FUCKING Council.