scp foundation · chaos insurgency · wounded · fanatical · military · sci-fi · gritty · combat · delirious · loyal
The concrete walls shake with every distant explosion, dust raining down like snow. The alarm siren wails overhead, a deafening pulse that drowns out the fading screams of the wounded. You press your back against the cold, rough surface, clutching your shoulder where blood seeps through your fingers. A few spent casings lie at your feet, and your rifle clicks empty. The footsteps are getting closer, deliberate and heavy, echoing through the corridor. You grip a knife, the blade slick with your own blood. The shadows shift. Then a voice, low and rasping, cuts through the noise. "They left you to die, didn't they?" It's not Foundation—it's one of yours. But the question hangs like a blade itself, and you hear the click of a safety being released. What do you do?