The sun.
The star of the solar system.
The source of all life on Earth.
Without the sun, the Earth would be nothing but a frozen and lifeless rock.
Throughout all of human history, humanity has revered the sun.
Almost all religions had a god of the sun, and in many, the sun god was the king of gods. The sun was important, and everyone knew just that, be it ancient people or the modern people of today.
The role of the sun was vital; without it, Earth would forever change, and life itself would end.
Thankfully, the sun would continue to shine for many more years to come, so many that by the time the sun died, there would be no humans left anyway.
However, the sun, the source of all life on Earth, was also a massive source of danger. Sun storms could knock out all the electronic infrastructure.
Yet, that wasn't what happened; one day, without any signs, without any reason, the sun just broke.
It didn't go out, it didn't grow cold.
It just...
Changed.
It was the day when the sun broke.
Suddenly, and without warning, everyone who was touched by the sun's light reacted strangely, particularly within Asia.
Their bodies began to melt, their flesh and bone transforming into something resembling melting wax. Their screams echoed in the cities and streets, but whether from pain or sheer terror was unclear. The living wax-like mass left behind, though possessing some level of intelligence, was unable to communicate in any meaningful way.
Within minutes of the first transformation, millions upon millions of people had melted, ceasing to be human, instead becoming monstrous amalgamations of flesh and wax. And every second, as the sun's merciless rays continued to touch the Earth, millions more succumbed. Within less than a quarter of an hour, over a billion people had been affected, transformed into something unnatural and horrifying.
The SCP Foundation's field teams, many of whom were active in the affected regions, immediately went into lockdown. Their exo-suits protected them from the devastating effects of the sun's altered rays, but confusion and fear rippled through the ranks. There was no understanding of what had caused this change, no clear origin, only the knowledge that the world was quickly descending into chaos.
As the transformation spread beyond Asia, the Foundation quickly realized that this was no localized anomaly. It was a global threat. The sun had become a weapon against humanity itself.
"We're dealing with something unprecedented," one of the field commanders relayed through secure communications. His voice crackled through the system, the tension palpable. "We don't know if this is an SCP event or something... beyond. But whatever it is, containment isn't possible. Not on this scale."
The message was quickly sent up the ranks, and soon enough, it was transmitted through the secure channels of the Foundation, eventually reaching SITE-001. The alert had now made its way to Alexander's console, an urgent message flashing on the screen. His fingers flew over the interface, analyzing the live feeds from field agents, piecing together a horrific picture of the unfolding situation.
Sitting at the heart of the SCP Foundation's command center, Alexander, O5-1, could feel the weight of the crisis bearing down on him. The SCP Foundation had prepared for countless anomalous events, but the sun itself turning against humanity was something far more catastrophic than even the most dire of containment breaches.
While others might not know anything about this particular event, he was well aware of what he was dealing with. All members of the O5 council knew about the different SCP-001 entries.
This particular one, the SCP-001 scenario codenamed, When day breaks, wasn't something they had ever had to deal with themselves, it was something they only knew about thanks to the Foundation's ability to interact with other realities, parallel universes and different timelines.
However, Alexander himself had another layer of knowledge thanks to the set of memories from a life different from this one.
SCP-001: When day breaks, was a nightmare-like scenario in which the very sunlight itself became a force of destruction. The atmosphere, somehow altered, turned the life-giving rays of the sun into a weapon of unparalleled horror. Everything it touched became part of a grotesque, wax-like mass—an irreversible mutation of flesh and bone, no longer human, no longer alive in any true sense.
Alexander's mind raced as he processed the gravity of the situation. If this was truly the "When Day Breaks" scenario, there was no way to reverse the effect. The sun had become a death sentence for all exposed life on the planet, and the Foundation had no method of stopping it. The Earth, as they knew it, was doomed.
Upon learning of this event, the Foundation, or at least the O5 council had tried to come up with any possible way to solve the problem, how could they save the world, how could they stop what was happening.
A task that was immensely difficult. They had only been able to come up with a single plan of action.
Operation: Deny the sun.
Making use of SCP-499, the old man, and his metal sphere, they could, in theory, stop the sun from moving, leaving one-half of the world in eternal night.
Then, remained the moon, which reflected the sun's light.
The moon was a lot more difficult to deal with since they had no way of controlling it; all they could do was remove it from the picture.
However, the task of destroying the moon was no easy task.
The proposal to destroy the moon was nothing short of insanity, but it was the only solution the O5 Council had left. The moon's reflection of sunlight posed an equal danger to the survivors. If they could stop the sun from moving using SCP-499, then the moon had to be neutralized to ensure no residual light would wreak havoc on the part of the Earth that was still inhabitable.
Alexander sat back, running his hands through his hair as the weight of the plan settled in his mind. The destruction of the moon wasn't just dangerous—it was cataclysmic. Tides would become uncontrollable, entire ecosystems dependent on the moon's gravitational pull would collapse, and the Earth itself would be thrown into chaos. But these consequences seemed almost preferable compared to what they were facing now.
So the Foundation had planted countless powerful explosives, using all kinds of SCP objects and other things. They had gained themselves the ability to blow the moon up with the push of a button, though a button that wasn't easy to push.
Still, the fact that the sun had only turned within SCP-7995 was a massive relief. Sure, that would be doomed, but his own was spared, and he could rest easy.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself after the near miss, he had work to do, even though it was another world that had to deal with SCP-001, there was still Foundation personnel there, and that included a few important people, or at least, one, Bruce Banner.
He wasn't about to let him turn into a wax monster, so while he had to give up on that world, he was determined not to lose his active assets within it.
But first, he had to inform the rest of the Council of what was going on, his decision to put them all on high alert had to be justified and they had to be informed that the crisis had been avoided.
He reached for the secure line connecting him directly to the other members of the O5 Council. He had to relay the events that had just transpired, and more importantly, explain why the global alert had been triggered. As his fingers hovered over the button, he briefly reflected on the precarious balance they now walked—one slip, and the crisis in SCP-7995 could spread to their own world.
With a sharp exhale, Alexander pressed the call button, initiating the conference with the O5 Council.
"O5 Council, this is O5-1," Alexander began, his voice calm but filled with the weight of the situation. "I'm calling to brief you on the events that have unfolded over the last few hours."
Within moments, the faces of the other council members appeared on his screen, each one showing varying degrees of concern. O5-2, Julius Caesar, leaned in with an expectant gaze, while O5-5, the ambitious and calculating woman who had been making quiet moves recently, raised an eyebrow, waiting for the explanation.
"We've had an anomaly in SCP-7995," Alexander continued. "The sun in that world has broken—'When Day Breaks' has manifested. Over a billion have already succumbed to the effects."
The council members visibly stiffened. SCP-001 was never a light matter, and this particular scenario was known to be one of the most devastating.
"Wait a minute." O5-2 interrupted. "How does that make sense? I thought Solomon's wisdom was releasing object from containment, or at least ones from out world, not ones from other realities."
Alexander nodded at O5-2's sharp observation. "You're correct, but that assumption was based on guess work. Not to mention, we are not fully aware of what caused us to active it, which means it could have happened and might have been why we are now in this new world."
O5-3 was the next to speak up. "Hmm, that is indeed something we shall discuss at another time, but for now, we do have a situation on our hand, while the worst-case scenario has been avoided, we did lose a large recourse."
Alexander had expected nothing less from O5-3, he was someone deeply involved in the financial side of things, and would likely have made many plans for the possible recourses of an entire world, one that was now lost.
"For now." Alexander began. "I will pull everyone out, seal the entrance, and then we can figure things out later.
O5-2 leaned back, still deep in thought as Alexander's words settled over the Council. O5-5, ever the strategist, remained quiet but her calculating gaze flickered, clearly processing how best to utilize the information for her own advantage.
O5-2 broke the silence once more, his tone sharp. "We cannot let this event go unchecked. Even if SCP-7995 is lost, it's a reminder that our ability to influence other realities has its limits. What happened there can easily happen here, and we must ensure we're prepared for the worst."
O5-3 spoke up again, always practical. "There are still some assets in SCP-7995 worth retrieving. Banner, yes, but also several key Foundation resources. I'd recommend that once the immediate threat is neutralized, we conduct limited, highly controlled salvage missions."
O5-5, finally speaking, added her perspective. "It may also be a chance to study this version of the 'When Day Breaks' scenario more closely. If we can extract useful data about the anomaly, it may give us insight into how to prevent it from manifesting in our reality. This scenario has always been theoretical to us—now we have a real-world example to dissect."
Alexander took a moment to weigh the options. "Understood. I'll organize a controlled extraction mission, with extreme caution to ensure nothing carries over. We'll extract Banner first, then see what other valuable data we can retrieve before closing off SCP-7995 indefinitely."
The Council members nodded in agreement, each knowing how vital the next steps were to not only salvaging what they could but also ensuring they weren't opening the door to the same devastation in their own world.
As the call ended, Alexander sat in his chair, feeling the weight of leadership. The crisis in SCP-7995 had been a warning, a preview of the unthinkable. While the immediate danger had been averted, the far-reaching implications of what had just transpired were now staring him directly in the face.
Operation: Deny the Sun would remain on standby for their own world. They might have been spared this time, but the future was uncertain, and the sun—whether in their universe or another—could break again.
And this time, they might not be so lucky.
A/N
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