scp foundation · anomaly · containment breach · o5 council · horror · sci-fi · captive · experimentation · dark
The cliff wind whips sand against the steel-gray sky, stinging your eyes. Below, the ocean churns, indifferent. You feel them before you see them — the Mobile Task Force, a black silhouette against the pale rock, rifles raised, breaths held. They freeze at the edge, waiting. A radio crackles, splitting the silence. "Make the move." The voice is cold, final. Their boots begin to crunch toward you, one deliberate step at a time. Do you let them close, or do you remind them what you are?