32 When Warhead Breaks

The screams of the damned filled this hall once more as the machine gun roared to life. A stream of more anti-life bullets streaked across the hallway and dissolved another wall of flesh.

When everything was done, squad leader Rosein's hands looked like they belonged to an 80-year-old grandmother.

"Commander Rosein. You can't just keep on firing…" John said, his voice slightly distorted by the full-covering helmet around his head, "You'll die sooner or later."

"Hmm… fine."

The machine gunner reluctantly accepted John's reason. Then she said, "We should probably start heading down. The seismic activities are getting stronger."

It's been over a day since the assault on Site-19 had begun in earnest. No one has slept. Everyone ran off generous doses of caffeine while they did their business in buckets down the hall away from the gaze of their brothers and sisters-in-arms.

If what Site Command said was accurate, then this was the only site that was under attack.

Sounded like bullshit to James but there's no way to really confirm if the other Sites are under attack or not. And it's better for the sake of his morale that James thinks the other Sites aren't under siege like Site-19 was.

"Start packing."

Everyone immediately got to work. Carol and he started packing any loose ammo back into boxes while John went to a nearby storage room to grab a trolly that could move this large machine gun. The other assistant shooter grabbed the sandbags and disassembled the short wall. James himself served as a lookout in case those things tried attacking again.

"FUCK!" John's scream was muffled by the closed door as multiple gunshots rang out from the storage room.

Instantly, everyone dropped what they were doing and took up arms. James himself readied his rifle and aimed it at the closed metal door. At the edge of his eyes, the Sergeant could see how everyone else including Lieutenant Rosein did the same thing, aiming their guns at the closed storage room.

There weren't any more movements. No sound came out of the storage room.

"Corporal John?"

It was Carol who called out John's name. Steadily, the woman approached the door, her steps audible as everyone was tenser than a bundle of springs about to break.

*Blam*

There was more gunshots before John finally spoke up, "Fuckers teleported inside here."

The storage door opened as John dragged out a single trolly large enough to fit the machine gun behind him. "Sorry about that. Fuckers teleported inside here using some kind of glyph. They're hiding inside a closed room to lie in ambush, ready to jump the next person that opens the door."

… Oh for fuck's sake, why do they have to mimic xenomorphs?!

While James was lamenting the sudden change in behavior of these things, the Squad Leader was more concerned with something else.

"They can teleport in?"

John started loading the machine gun onto the trolly, "Well yeah. Those larger instances of SCP-9401A had no problem teleporting when they fought against Goddess."

James recalled the video of Agent Kukulkan decimating those six huge instances of SCP-9401A, tentatively dubbed 'Asura'-type by Site Command. Those were real unstoppable monsters requiring whole teams of Mobile Task Forces just to take down one.

They're large enough to be essentially immune to gunfire while containing enough arms to conjure up all kinds of extremely powerful kinetohazards.

Thank whatever gods out there that Goddess Kukulkan is on the side of humanity because she had no problem killing all six of them.

"Probably groups performing kinetohazard rituals. If they can do it en mass they wouldn't have chosen the slow method of digging down." Carol suggested, who then loudly placed the heavy ammo boxes onto the end of the trolly where they wouldn't touch the machine gun.

John and the other assistant shooter began to move the trolly along while James and Carol served as lookouts with one leading and the other trailing behind the group. Without the moans and groans of those fused corrupted flesh, this hallway was eerily quiet save for the movements of the trolly and their footsteps.

They entered the elevator without much issue save for having to properly align the trolly with the door so the machine gun wouldn't clip the sides of the door.

The squad leader tapped her keycard on the reader before the elevator door closed and everyone was sent down deeper into the facility.

Though James didn't know how deep the facilities truly go, he did know that the Light Containment Zone was at least hundreds of meters underground.

The elevator ride went on for a while.

*Ding*

The Light Containment Zone was finally reached. The door opened and Rosein quickly said, "Hey! We're friendly!"

There was a brief silence, before a distant voice called out, "What's the passcode?"

"Z-11QUFCBA01841."

"... Confirmed and logged. Welcome to the third line of defense, Machine Gun Nest Z-11. We can always use more people."

With that, John and the other assistant shooter moved the machine gun and ammo boxes out of the elevator while the rest walked out and joined with the others.

The third line of defense: traps. All kinds of traps are laid all over the Light Containment Zone from the ones that only slow you down to the ones that send you into hell. Literally a dimension of fire and brimstone. In case everything fails, James saw how Site Command was prepared to turn the entirety of the Light Containment Zone into an alien jungle by broadcasting a modified SCP-407 over the level's P.A system.

James observed how this hallway wide enough for multiple tanks to pass through simultaneously was yet another kill corridor.

The walls were filled with gun turrets, flame turrets, and grenade launchers while sandbags stacked on the ground formed a small wall where people could take cover. The centerpiece of this place was the large, almost howitzer-like cannon that fires miniature nukes at the elevator shaft with controllable dial-a-yield ability.

About 20 people manned this post. Two of them went forward and helped John and the assistant gunner set up the large machine gun while two more carried the ammo boxes, leaving the trolly empty.

The commander of this post, a man named Benjamin Ripley stepped forward, "Lieutenant Rosein, seismic readings are indicating those things are digging down through the Earth. Site Command has triangulated several spots where they're most likely to emerge from. I want your team to reinforce the one closest to us."

A hologram of the local area projected from Ripley's shoulder. It depicted the elevator James used to get down from the Surface Zone as well as the local hallways, rooms, and beyond.

"Yes sir, though if I may ask?"

Ripley nodded.

"When is the earliest breach by these meat worms?"

"They're ETA in anywhere between 13 to 15 hours. You're free to take some rest if that's what you're asking."

"Thank you, sir."

The five went ahead and sat on a small transport cart that moved people and cargo. James found himself enjoying this small period of serene peace away from the light and fleshy claws of the sun.

Everyone did. No one spoke a word and simply enjoyed the silence.

"Well. You all heard what Captain Ripley said." Rosein broke the ice, "Take some well-deserved rest. I know I am."

"Roger that Lieutenant Rosein."

"Aye-aye, Lieutenant."

In total, the ride took no more than ten minutes before they reached a section of a hallway that had another machine gun nest aiming down at a dead end. It took a second for James to realize that the guns were preparing for those things to dig down and breach somewhere along that hallway.

Getting off, James helped Carol with carrying the ammo boxes while the others unloaded the machine gun. Rosein decided to greet the machine gun nest commander, another Lieutenant.

"Lieutenant Maynard!"

"Ah, Rosein. I'm jealous of you. You and your team got to fire at those bastards while all I did was just sit around on my asses all day."

Rosein let out a forced smile as she nodded, "Well, you're about to get your wish."

"We've set up sleeping bags down the hall to the left at the first door. Tell your subordinates to stay quiet if they decide to rest."

"Of course."

The entrance to the rest area wasn't anything fancy, just a double-metal door. The inside was dark and filled with sounds of snoring. There, right beside the entrance was a bowl on top of a nightstand filled with earplugs alongside a pile of rolled-up unused sleeping bags.

How thoughtful, James recognized as he picked up a pair of earplugs and hooked his fingers around the strap of a rolled-up sleeping bag.

There, he picked out an empty space on the ground. Unfurling the sleeping bag, James Goodwell took off his shoes and tucked himself in, with the armor and guns still on his body. It was a bit hard, the Sergeant thought, but oh well.

At least this way he could spring into action in case of emergency.

Plugging his ears, James closed his eyes and slept, the tiredness practically forced the sleeping onto the man.

It was a dreamless slumber.

When Goodwell woke up, he felt much more refreshed. So much so that he slowly got up into a sitting position and scratched his hair.

It was only when he opened his eyes did his mind remembered everything that had happened. Damn. The apocalypse really wasn't a dream.

In this quiet and serene moment, James mulled over everything that's happened. That note from the Foundation he had received about pretty much all of humanity dying.

Fuck.

Before the pain and sorrow could come, James forced it down. Now wasn't the time to mourn. He could mourn when all's said and done.

So he got up fully this time and took out the earplugs. Immediately, his hearing was drowned out by the noise of more snoring. Putting on his shoes, Goodwell looked over his guns, fiddling around with the thing and checking if anything was jammed.

Nothing's out of place.

The man then took out the magazine and counted the faith bullets. Full mag.

*Click*

With a single swift motion, James loaded the gun and prepared himself for duty after resting up. As he walked out, the man dropped the pair of earplugs inside a trashcan filled with them.

Whereas the inside of the sleeping quarters was serene, if a bit loud with the snoring, the outside was loud as the sound of boots clanking against the floor echoed across the place. Everywhere James looked, he saw more Foundation staff moving everything from more guns to more ammo boxes.

James marched up to the closest officer— a Lieutenant— and saluted.

"Sir! Sergeant James Goodwell, reporting for duty!"

"Sergeant Goodwell. We're stretched thin as it is. Nest-91 has need of you. The hallway leading to that potential breach point is too narrow for a machine gun."

"Yes sir!"

James marched away and speed-walked through this almost labyrinthian facility. Its numerous corridors were enough to confuse almost anyone… who doesn't have a map of this place that is.

It took over half an hour of speed-walking before Goodwell reached Nest-91 at the very edge of the Light Containment Zone. Only three people were guarding a fairly narrow hallway, all of whom were lying behind a small mount made by stacking sandbags on top of each other.

"Sergeant James Goodwell, reporting for duty!"

All three turned to him, with one of them saying in a rough tone, "Ah, enough of the fuckin' formalities. Shits' the end of the world. 'Names' Jack. Hope ye're readi' ta' die for the cause."

"Corporal William. Apologies for the lack of respect from our commanding officer." The second one reached out for a handshake and James promptly responded in kind.

"Corporal Daniel." The third one said curtly.

Jack then took out a metal flask and took a sip before offering it to James.

"Ye want some?"

Goodwell shook his head, "I don't drink."

"Tsk, shame. World's endin'. Bein' drunk is the only way ta' deal with it."

At this point, James looked at William, who just shrugged, "The higher-ups received my complaint but didn't reprimand him. I think that's tacit approval."

"'Course the higher-ups ain't gonna say anythin'! Fuckers probably drinkin' themselves 'til they puke. Letting us grunts die 'here…"

"Sir, respectfully, we're all just cogs inside a machine," William said, "For the sake of humanity, I'm willing to sacrifice myself. Are you?"

That shut Jack up. The drunk's lips thinned before he put his flask away.

"Fuck off. I'm not concedin' to you chucklefucks, I'm putting the flask away because they've begun their assault."

Just as Sergeant Jack had finished saying that, a group of those humanoid things teleported into the hallway in a burst of kinetohazardous glyphs.

"Fire fire fire!"

Everyone did as they were told. James himself brought his gun up and prayed to Kukulkan as he fired.

The first group was vaporized by a mixture of plasma and transmutation into pillars of salt.

"Damn. Them' nova rounds?"

"Faith actually."

"Shit, what god did you pray to?" Jack turned to fully face James.

"Kukulkan."

Before anyone could say anything, an even larger group of humanoids teleported into the hallway.

"Shit!"

There were enough humanoids to practically fill up the whole hallway from the floor to the ceiling, all just this one almost homogenous lump of molten meat.

"Kill those bastards!"

Through the barrage of gunfire and anomalous bullets, a single glyph managed to get through and touch the ground.

It disappeared.

"Shit!"

A sinkhole suddenly appeared right underneath the group as the gunfire stopped.

"Ow…" The sinkhole was only about a meter deep.

"Join us… it's so peaceful…" Their voice was finally audible without the loud sounds of gunfire.

James tried to reorientate himself. When he did manage it, the Sergeant saw how more groups of those humanoids had just been teleported in.

They have to retreat. They have to yield ground to these things.

More and more glyphs surrounded the large mass of encroaching corrupted flesh that filled up a hallway in its entirety. They were moving slowly, yet like the rising tides, they were unstoppable.

"Come on, we have to go," James said once he reached the top of the sinkhole. Turning around, he started helping his companions up.

Another new glyph fell into the newly conjured-up sinkhole. An explosion of webbings came forth from the spot where that glyph had touched, trapping everyone who was still inside.

"Motherfucker!"

James had just barely got out of the way. All three of his teammates were stuck now, and if the lack of progress William made in cutting those webbings with a knife, those strands were going to need special tools.

Goodwell slowly backed away as those things bypassed those webbings with ease. Of course, it's with ease given how similar to a liquid any tissue touched by the sun became.

"Damn it Goodwell! If you're going to run at least kill us first!" It was Jack who said that, entangled inside the webbings as he was.

"Wait! I can get out of here! I almost cut through the webbings!"

William was nowhere close to cutting through the webbings.

James' jaw fell. Was he actually—?

"Just do it!" Jack yelled.

"No! Sergeant Goodwell don't do it! I'm almost freed!"

"God damn it you're nowhere close to cuttin' that shit."

"Fuck you, Jack! You're not going to kill me!"

The Sergeant closed his mouth and steadily raised his assault rifle.

He prayed to Kukulkan. The plasma should give them a quick and painless death.

"Wait! Sergeant Goodwell— DON'T DO IT! Please I beg you don't do it!"

"Oh look who's being a coward now?!"

Rest well. Away from this hell.

"NOOOOO—"

A burst of three gunshots vaporized everything inside the sinkhole. James felt his legs go weak. He gave one last hateful glare at those things before turning around and running away.

The emergency red lights flooded the entirety of the Light Containment Zone in redness. The blaring alarms overpowered the sounds of those slobbering meats and their moans. Sergeant James barely paid attention to anything as he felt disgusted with himself. Having to shoot fellow brothers-in-arms… even if it was for their own good.

The man forced himself to move on, to think of what was to come next. Clearly, that hallway was lost. Those things managed to get their feet into the door before it could be fully closed.

Just then, the sight of a British butler wearing a suicide vest appearing from the corner caused James to halt.

Yelling, "Tally-ho! Doctor Bright, or you might know him as O5-9 has instructed me to tell any surviving security guards that the Light Containment Zone is being abandoned, and the Alpha Warhead will be detonated in…" The butler looked at his watch, "...30 minutes. Then he instructed me to throw myself into a clump of these dastardly fleshy things and activate the explosive vest currently wrapped around my body."

"What?" James' mouth gapped once more. Before the Sergeant could ask any more questions, the British butler jogged off in the direction of where James ran away from.

"The Site's intercom system has been destroyed…" The butler trailed off the distance between himself and James grew. Very quickly, the butler's voice was drowned out by the alarm.

Disappearing with the turn of another corner, James could faintly hear a metal cracking sound piercing through this sea of blaring alarms.

Cryo bombs. James shivered in response to the detonation even while so far away and wearing so many layers of armor.

More importantly, the Alpha Warhead is being activated instead of SCP-407? This breach must be enormous if Site Command decides to bury Site-19.

He really gotta get down to the lower levels quickly lest he's caught up in the blast.

James ran like he'd never had before. He even took off his armor so he could run faster.

The man ran past dropped guns on the ground, and scattered grenades, unmanned machine guns, cannons, and more. All were abandoned as they hurried down to the Heavy Containment Zone even deeper underground.

The final line of defense. The Heavy Containment Zone of Site-19 is where the Foundation keeps its most dangerous SCPs. All of them will be let out into the open once most Foundation staff are inside specifically designated bunkers.

It was the final solution. SCPs vs SCP-9401A 'Daybreak'.

James remembered a line from a movie that perfectly encapsulates the situation; 'Let them fight'.

"Let them fight indeed…"

It took almost 25 minutes for James to reach the nearest elevator. As he ran he met up with John of all people and passed by several of what his companion called 'Mr. Deeds'.

They went inside the elevator and pressed the 'Heavy Containment Zone' button. James only released his held breaths when the elevator began its descent into the lower floors without any problems.

"Ha…"

The Sergeant took off his helmet and allowed his hair to flow freely. He was breathing heavily from the running.

"Fucking… hell… that… was… nerve-racking..."

Oddly enough, John wasn't breathing heavily despite running at the very least the same length as he did.

"Hmm. Yes."

"Ahhh… man, I am going to take a sip of water…"

"Take mine." John offered curtly as he produced a bottle from his backpack.

"...Thank… you…"

Now without the crimson light overhead and the alarm clouding out his ears, James noticed something weird about his companion as he reached for the water.

His eyes…now unblocked by a helmet, they look… they look like they were carved from bones.

*Snrk*

"Urk!"

A blade of flesh stabbed right into James' stomach.

Fucking… imposters! The Sergeant thought vividly as he glared at the John-thing wearing the armor of a Foundation Site security guard.

He could feel something probing at the edge of his mind. He felt his nerves connect to the blade of flesh like it was a limb.

Goodwell knew this thing was trying to convert him into one of them, now without using rays of the sun.

Mercifully, it was at that moment the Alpha Warhead detonated. The fireball from a 500-kiloton nuclear warhead expanded and spread across every hallway of Site-19's Light Containment Zone like snakes made from nuclear fire. It slithered and covered all the blobs of sun-corrupted flesh before reaching the closed elevator doors leading to both the surface level and Heavy Containment Zones.

The thin metal barrier was no match. Vaporizing in an instant, the fireball continued to expand down into the elevator shaft that connected to the Light Containment Zone.

The flames of fission enveloped the elevator, consuming both James and that John-thing in its terribly warm embrace.