Chapter 2: "Into the Wolf's Den"
A bitter wind swept through the dense forest as dusk thickened. The GIGN team advanced cautiously, moving in a tight line behind their leader, Sergeant Mathieu Dupont. The twelve-man squad had been dispatched for a reconnaissance mission, tasked with investigating the recent disappearances in the area. Villagers had reported hearing strange cries and seeing inexplicable lights, prompting local authorities to call in the GIGN to investigate. To them, it was just another routine mission, but they had no idea they were about to encounter something far beyond their comprehension.
"How many clicks to the zone?" one of the operators whispered into his mic.
"Less than a kilometer," Dupont replied, scanning the forest's shadows. "Stay sharp."
Dusk had given way to complete night, and the forest was now engulfed in oppressive darkness. Only the operators' flashlights cut through the gloom, casting flickering beams of light over gnarled trees and dense underbrush. The atmosphere was heavy, unnervingly quiet. Not a sound from animals, not even the chirp of a bird.
They finally reached a clearing where an old, decrepit farmhouse stood in the midst of the trees. Its walls were cracked and overgrown with vegetation, the windows shattered, revealing impenetrable darkness within. The place seemed abandoned for years, yet this was where witnesses had reported hearing voices.
"Something feels off," murmured operator Paul Lafitte, raising his weapon. "Why would anyone come here?"
"We're here to find out, Lafitte," Dupont replied, advancing cautiously toward the house. "Standard formation. We go in and check it out. Stay focused."
The operators spread out, their weapons trained on the entrance. Dupont kicked the door open with a loud creak. Inside, the darkness was suffocating. They moved cautiously, fingers on their triggers, scanning every corner.
Then, a voice broke the silence—soft but desperate.
"Help me… please…"
The team froze. The voice came from the back of the house, behind a partially open door. It sounded like a woman's voice, trembling with fear. Jean-Baptiste, one of the operators, turned to Dupont.
"Chief, you hear that? We've got to help her."
Dupont frowned. Something wasn't right about that voice—it felt... off. But he couldn't ignore the possibility of a victim in need.
"Alright. We move in carefully."
They approached the door slowly, the voice calling out again, this time more urgently.
"Here… I'm trapped… help me…"
Jean-Baptiste was the first to push the door open. Inside, a small, dilapidated room lay in shadow. There was nothing in sight except debris and a strange metallic smell in the air. But the moment he took another step, everything went to hell.
A guttural roar erupted from the darkness, accompanied by the sound of claws scraping against the floor. A dark figure lunged at Jean-Baptiste, its fangs gleaming in the dim flashlight beam. He had no time to scream before the creature tore into him, his body collapsing under the brutal attack.
"FIRE!" Dupont shouted, opening fire on the creature.
Bullets ripped through the air, but the creature—a red, reptilian beast with razor-sharp claws—dodged with inhuman agility. It was SCP-939, a monstrous entity known for its mimicry abilities, and it had them right where it wanted. Dupont was facing the unthinkable. These creatures weren't human, and they weren't natural.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Lafitte screamed, firing wildly as more SCP-939s emerged from the shadows. They were surrounded.
Another creature pounced on Lafitte, dragging him down with a horrifying shriek. Blood splattered across the floor as his body was torn apart in seconds. The remaining GIGN operators fired frantically, but there were too many creatures, moving with a speed that defied belief.
"We're in deep trouble here! Get out of the house, NOW!" Dupont shouted, retreating quickly.
The team scrambled out of the house, but the creatures were already on their heels, emerging from the darkness with relentless ferocity. The operators fired blindly into the forest, but SCP-939 blended seamlessly into the night, reappearing in unexpected places, their bestial roars mingling with unsettlingly human voices.
Another operator, Jacques, tripped over a root, and before he could get up, a creature grabbed him by the leg and dragged him into the bushes. His terrified screams echoed briefly before they were abruptly silenced.
"WE'RE SCREWED!" one of the operators screamed, his breath quickening as panic set in.
Dupont tried to remain calm, but the situation was spiraling into chaos. Now in full retreat, they were being pursued by a pack of relentless predators. They raced toward the abandoned industrial complex at the edge of the forest—a massive structure looming in the distance.
"Get inside the complex! Regroup!" Dupont ordered, hoping the walls might offer some temporary shelter.
The survivors rushed into the industrial zone, but no sooner had they slammed the heavy metal doors shut behind them than the creatures caught up. A horde of SCP-939s poured into the area, forcing the operators to scatter in panic. Separated, each man sought refuge among the old, rusted buildings and abandoned warehouses.
The beasts' guttural roars still filled the air, mixed with the disturbing mimicry of their fallen comrades' voices. Three operators were already dead, and the rest of the team was now scattered in the night, their chances of survival dwindling with every passing minute.
Dupont, now alone, ran between the buildings, his eyes wide with fear. His mind raced. What were these things? And how the hell were they going to make it out alive?
As he caught his breath in a darkened corner, a familiar voice called out again.
"Dupont… over here… help me…"
It was Jean-Baptiste's voice, but Dupont knew he was dead. He knew it was a trick, yet the horror of the situation was making him doubt himself. This was no longer a fight against criminals or terrorists. What they were up against was something unimaginable, something even elite forces couldn't contain.
The industrial complex was shrouded in an oppressive darkness, only pierced by the few flickering beams of the GIGN's flashlights. Their men were scattered and desperate, the bestial roars of SCP-939 echoing through the night. Dupont, crouched in the shadows of an old warehouse, tried to catch his breath while listening to the ominous sounds around him.
As he remained on alert, ready to react at the slightest movement, an unusual crackle came through his earpiece, breaking the oppressive silence. He was not alone.
Several kilometers away, concealed among the trees at the forest's edge, the Mobile Task Force Delta-4, known as "Safari Time," observed the entire complex through their night-vision binoculars. The unit's commander, a man known as Watcher, a hardened veteran in his forties with sharp eyes and a powerful build, studied the area carefully.
"Contact!" one of Delta-4's operators murmured, adjusting his binoculars. "Multiple unidentified movements inside the complex."
Watcher nodded and raised a hand to his mic, contacting their remote support.
"Overlord, this is Watcher. We're in position. We've got visual on multiple unidentified figures in the industrial complex. We've also heard repeated gunfire. What are your orders?"
---
Back in his room, Léonard sat before his computer, the SCP Foundation Management System interface still displayed on his screen. His heart raced as a notification appeared:
[Ding! Mobile Task Force Delta-4 deployed. Communication with Watcher in progress.]
The young administrator, still learning the ropes of his new responsibilities, activated the communication channel. A deep, commanding voice came through his headset:
"Overlord, this is Watcher. We've heard gunfire and have visual on potential hostiles. What's the course of action?"
Léonard took a deep breath. The situation was serious. He needed to remain calm and coordinate the operation with professionalism, even though this was all new to him.
"This is Overlord," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "Proceed with caution. Priority is to recover any survivors if possible. Confirm hostiles and contain the anomaly. You have the green light to neutralize any direct threats. I'll be with you throughout this mission."
"Understood, Overlord," Watcher replied. "Delta-4 moving in. Hostiles will be neutralized, survivors will be recovered. Out."
Léonard watched the real-time map on his system, observing Delta-4's swift and precise movements through the trees, advancing toward the industrial complex. He knew this was just the beginning of a much greater test of his abilities as an administrator.
---
Commander Watcher signaled his team, and the members of Delta-4 moved silently around the perimeter of the complex. Their movements were smooth and coordinated, every man knowing exactly what to do. They approached the complex's entrance, the howls of SCP-939 still echoing in the night.
"Get ready to breach," Watcher murmured. "Lethal rounds loaded—these things are extremely dangerous."
Inside the complex, Dupont, cornered and isolated, desperately tried to contact his team via radio, but only static responded. His gut twisted with fear. He knew their chances of survival were slim—unless help arrived soon.
Unbeknownst to him, that help was already on its way.