Hughes was not dead.
That was the only sliver of good news humanity had in this living hell.
But Adam was just a frail violinist.
How could he possibly find a man thought to be long dead—especially in a world ruled by SCP-3125?
---
On screen.
After a long silence, O5-4 finally asked:
"Then what? Where did Adam go to find Hughes?"
Leon Lake extended the timeline he had been drawing and wrote down:
May 4th.
"After several days of exploring Site-41, Wheeler wrote the final addendum to SCP-3125."
The Overseers and the livestream audience froze in shock.
Leon opened the SCP-3125 file on the screen again.
Sure enough, at the very bottom was a new entry: Appendix 3.
---
[Appendix 3]
[I found your body.]
A heavy sense of loss. I don't mind admitting it. I once knew a Marion. In the short time I knew her, she wasn't someone who gave up easily. But that was a long time ago…
It's not my place to tell you how to do your job, but I think you're overlooking something. From the evidence, this isn't the only "Antimemetics Division" site. There are others.
I think they're still here—effectively invisible to passersby, definitely. But like Site-41, they still physically exist.
Your plan has been in motion far longer than you realize. Since you've never been free to remember the details, you've already carried it out more than once.
"Sixty =."
---
The livestream exploded with comments.
These words were clearly written for the late Marion Wheeler.
But the implications shocked everyone.
---
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Natasha Romanoff frowned.
"What does he mean—other Antimemetics sites? Didn't they say Site-41 was the only one?"
Nick Fury narrowed his eye at the screen. After a moment's thought, he muttered:
"Only Wheeler ever said that. But her memory was being censored—constantly, maybe even without her realizing it."
The room went silent.
Then excitement burst forth from the agents.
> "So… there might be a site even more secure than Site-41?"
"Could Hughes be at that site?"
Nick didn't answer. His gaze stayed fixed on the screen.
---
[Appendix 3 continues]
There is another basement that fits the description—a truck-sized amnestic airlock. S167-001-6183.
Site-167 is technically a 'non-entity,' which is likely why you missed it. It may already be destroyed. And it's a long, long way to reach on foot. But better this slim chance than none.
I will probably die trying, given the state of the world lately. But I hope anyone who follows my trail will choose the same strategy.
[Regardless of all this… continue to exist.]
---
When the addendum ended, the audience breathed out collectively.
For the first time in a long while, there was a spark of hope.
So the question was now simple:
How could Adam find Hughes?
---
All eyes turned instinctively to Leon Lake.
Leon drew in a deep breath and lifted another videotape.
"This… is the last one."
The Overseers stiffened.
> "The last set?"
Could this mean the story was drawing to its final conclusion?
Leon's tone was calm, but the weight of his words shook the room:
"In truth, no one knows how Adam found Site-167 in this world of living hell."
The livestream audience fell silent, then imagined it themselves:
A weary, broken violinist staggering through landscapes of horror.
Twisted abominations lurking in every shadow.
Countless times falling, countless times rising again.
And against all odds, step by step, reaching Site-167.
The hopeless road of a man who should have died a hundred times over.
But Adam endured.
---
Click.
Leon slid the last videotape into the machine.
Every pair of eyes in both universes locked on the screen.
The recording began.
Adam's gaunt figure stumbled into view.
---
He was moving through a vast, crumbling factory.
The livestream audience froze.
Could this be—Site-167?
Their hope twisted into fear.
---
If Site-41 had looked almost serene, with its windows overlooking endless forests and natural light—
Site-167 was a nightmare.
A sprawling, hostile industrial wasteland spanning four square kilometers of warehouses, laboratories, and administrative blocks.
Its architecture was brutal, oppressive—built for function, not for life.
No greenery. No beauty.
Just concrete, steel, and silence.
The constant howling of wind shrieked through the gaps of the buildings, echoing like tortured screams.
And at the center—
Nothing but charred ruins.
The place had been erased by an orbital laser strike.
---
"This was supposed to be the safe site?"
The livestream chat exploded:
> "WTF?! Site-167 looks like ground zero of a nuke!"
"Where's Hughes? Where's the staff?"
"Don't tell me Adam went through all that just to find this wasteland…"
Even Adam looked broken.
His body swayed. He was at his limit.
Too far. Too long.
He could barely keep his sanity intact in SCP-3125's world.
His vision blurred with migraines and static.
Yet he pressed forward, whispering to himself:
> "No more waiting. No more wandering. Something has to be done."
Ahead loomed a vast vertical shaft between Buildings 8 and 22E—thirty meters wide, framed by a yellow crane.
The air itself warped at the edges of the chasm.
Adam gripped the railing.
And began his descent into the underground of Site-167.
---
To Be Continued…
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