The jungle looked different in the daylight.
When Havoc stepped beyond the reinforced site door and into the forest again, sunlight filtered down through the canopy in thick golden beams. The leaves shimmered in soft greens instead of endless black silhouettes. Birds called from somewhere high above. Insects buzzed lazily between branches. The air felt warm, alive—almost peaceful.
Almost.
Havoc moved slowly, rifle held at a low-ready position, boots pressing carefully into soil still damp from the night's humidity.
Daylight helped.
But it didn't erase the danger.
He scanned the treeline, then the underbrush, then the canopy again. Every snapped twig made him tense. Every rustle dragged his eyes toward it. He kept reminding himself: daylight did not mean safety.
It just meant visibility.
He swallowed and spoke quietly.
"System… how far is the target?"
There was a brief delay, then—
"Current estimated distance: approximately one hundred fifty meters."
One hundred fifty meters.
That was closer than he liked.
Havoc exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on the rifle.
"Alright," he murmured. "Still walking."
He moved again, stepping around gnarled roots and low-hanging branches, trying to keep his movement controlled instead of frantic. The sound of his own breathing felt too loud in his ears.
He couldn't help thinking about how lucky he had been before.
Ben and Jerry.
The Eye Pods had been harmless—supportive even. Cute. Manageable. Safe-class.
That wasn't a standard first encounter.
That was a blessing.
"I got lucky," Havoc muttered to himself.
The system didn't respond.
Because it was true.
If his first anomaly had been something aggressive… something hostile… something that reacted to movement or sound or proximity—
He swallowed.
He didn't want to finish that thought.
His boots pressed deeper into the forest floor as he walked, nerves crawling beneath his skin.
"What if this one isn't safe?" he muttered under his breath. "What if this one doesn't wait? What if it doesn't hesitate?"
He pictured different things from everything he'd read and watched over the years—Euclid-class unpredictability. Keter-level violence. Entities that didn't reason. Entities that didn't stop.
His hands tightened around the rifle.
It wasn't even the worst part.
The worst part was the limitation.
He didn't have backup.
Technically, he had ten soldiers back at the site. But the system had been clear—no deployment without classification. No unnecessary deaths. No blind engagements.
That meant the first contact… was always his.
He had to see it first.
He had to analyze it first.
He had to be close enough to scan it.
Close enough to be hurt.
"Great," he muttered bitterly. "So the only way to get help is to almost get killed first."
The system didn't argue.
Havoc let out a shaky breath.
Immortality.
That word had sounded cool when he first got it. It had sounded powerful. It had sounded like protection.
Now it felt like permission for pain.
He could regenerate.
But that didn't mean he wouldn't feel it.
It didn't mean he wouldn't bleed. Or burn. Or break.
If something stabbed him, he'd feel it.
If something crushed him, he'd feel that too.
He forced himself forward anyway.
Because he didn't really have another option.
The forest thinned slightly ahead, sunlight cutting more clearly through the branches. Shadows moved naturally now—leaves swaying in wind, birds hopping from branch to branch.
And somehow, that almost felt worse.
At night, everything looked suspicious.
In daylight, everything looked normal.
Which meant something abnormal could hide more easily.
"System," Havoc whispered again, "is it still one hundred fifty meters?"
"Current distance: one hundred thirty-eight meters."
Closer.
His heartbeat ticked up another notch.
He imagined what would happen if this anomaly was violent.
He'd scan it.
Assess it.
If it attacked—
He'd need to survive long enough to pull back.
Long enough to retreat.
Long enough to call soldiers.
And if he couldn't—
He clenched his jaw.
"I hate this rule," he muttered. "I really hate that I have to almost die before I get to deploy backup."
The system responded calmly.
"Correct threat assessment is required before risking additional units."
"Yeah, I know," Havoc said. "I know."
That didn't make it easier.
Because he understood the logic.
That was the problem.
He walked another several meters, carefully stepping over a fallen log, eyes scanning constantly.
He imagined worst-case scenarios.
What if it was something invisible?
What if it was something mimetic?
What if it was something that required direct eye contact?
He was trained for basic firearms use now—but that didn't mean much if the threat wasn't physical.
"What if it's something I can't shoot?" he asked quietly.
"Unknown."
"Not helpful."
"Accurate."
Havoc almost laughed—but it came out as a tense exhale instead.
He adjusted the sling on his rifle.
"Okay," he told himself quietly. "One step at a time."
He didn't have to win.
He just had to survive the first encounter.
He just had to gather data.
He just had to not panic.
His boots pressed forward again.
Sunlight glinted off the metal of his rifle as he passed through a thinner patch of trees.
Birdsong faded slightly.
The wind shifted.
The jungle seemed to hold its breath.
"Distance?" Havoc asked.
"One hundred twenty meters."
Closer.
Too close.
His mind kept circling back to the same issue.
If it was dangerous… he'd have to feel it.
If it attacked… he'd have to endure it.
There would be bruises.
Cuts.
Maybe worse.
He wasn't looking forward to any of that.
Not even slightly.
His immortality mutation did not make him fearless.
If anything—it made him more aware of what he might endure.
He forced his steps to remain steady.
He wouldn't stop.
Because if he stopped—
Someone else out there might not survive.
And even though he hadn't seen a single civilian yet in this world… the possibility was enough.
That was part of the job.
Contain. Protect. Survive.
He inhaled deeply.
Exhaled slowly.
And continued forward through the daylight jungle, toward something unknown—hoping his luck hadn't run out with Ben and Jerry.
Havoc pushed forward through the jungle, every sense sharpened by the steady rhythm of his own footsteps.
He was hyper-aware now—not panicked, not frozen—just alert. The daylight still filtered warmly through the trees, but the air felt heavier the deeper he moved. His rifle stayed angled forward, his head turning slightly at every shift of leaves.
Then—
"Alert: Human life detected."
Havoc stopped instantly.
He didn't even flinch at the system's voice this time. He had grown used to it cutting into his thoughts.
But the words themselves made him freeze.
"Human life?" he repeated under his breath.
He hadn't asked for clarification. He didn't need to.
He was in another world.
Of course there were people here.
It had always been inevitable.
Still, the confirmation hit him differently than expected.
People meant witnesses.
Witnesses meant questions.
Questions meant complications.
He glanced down at his prototype uniform and the rifle in his hands.
"…This is going to be awkward," he muttered. "Hope nobody asks too many questions."
Then—
A scream.
High-pitched.
Panicked.
Young.
Havoc's thoughts snapped into focus.
The scream cut through the forest like a blade. It wasn't distant—it was near. Too near.
His heart slammed in his chest.
That wasn't a threat alert.
That was a child.
Without thinking, Havoc broke into a run.
Branches whipped past him as he pushed forward, boots pounding into dirt and leaf litter. He completely forgot about caution, forgot about stealth, forgot about distance tracking.
He wasn't about to let some kid get hurt.
There were lines he didn't cross.
And one of them was letting a child suffer because he hesitated.
"System!" he barked. "Distance!"
"Multiple life signs converging. One human. Two anomalous signatures. Seventy meters."
He ran harder.
He didn't care if the anomaly heard him.
Didn't care if it sensed him.
If something was threatening a kid—
He was stepping in.
He didn't tolerate people who abused power. Didn't tolerate cruelty disguised as strength. Didn't tolerate anyone who hurt those weaker than them for no reason.
And hurting a child?
That wasn't something he could stand by and watch.
"Forty meters."
Through the trees, movement flickered.
The ground ahead was torn up—branches broken, earth gouged, leaves scattered.
"Twenty-five meters."
Havoc burst through the last line of dense brush—
—and stopped dead in his tracks.
What he saw made his brain take a full second to process.
In a small clearing, towering between broken trees, was a massive centipede.
Its elongated body was thick, segmented, and covered in a slick chitinous sheen that reflected the sunlight in dull browns and grimy reds. Dozens upon dozens of twitching legs rippled beneath it, moving in coordinated waves as it reared partially upright. Its front mandibles snapped sharply in agitated clicks, cutting at the air with predatory intent.
Opposite it—
Was a piñata.
A bright, roughly human-shaped piñata.
Its body was made of layered, colorful paper—reds, yellows, blues—though parts of it were ripped and frayed as if damaged. Candy and stuffing-like material spilled from small tears along its side. Its limbs jerked with unnatural animation, moving in quick, spastic bursts as it lunged at the centipede with awkward but forceful swings.
The sight was absurd.
A gigantic centipede and a violent party decoration locked in combat.
Paper and chitin clashed in a violent storm of unnatural movement. The centipede lunged forward, jaws snapping, while the piñata swung stiff arms down like blunt weapons, striking with surprising force.
It was bizarre.
It was surreal.
It was wrong.
For a split second, Havoc stared.
Then he snapped out of it.
This is your job.
Weird. Unnatural. Impossible.
This was exactly what he signed up for.
But he wasn't focused on the anomalies.
He scanned quickly—
And saw her.
Near the base of a cracked tree trunk, partially hidden behind exposed roots, was a little girl.
She couldn't have been older than eight or nine. Her small frame was crouched low to the ground, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Long dark hair fell messily around her shoulders, partially covering her face as she shook.
Her wide eyes were fixed on the chaos unfolding in front of her.
Terrified.
Her clothes were simple and worn, slightly dirty from the forest ground. There was a tremble in her posture—like she had frozen in place and couldn't will her legs to move.
She looked—
Strangely familiar.
Something about her face tugged at Havoc's memory.
The shape of her eyes. The set of her expression. Something about the seriousness behind the fear.
But this wasn't the moment.
He didn't have time to figure out why she seemed familiar.
All that mattered was one thing.
She was in danger.
The centipede's massive body thrashed sideways, uprooting a clump of dirt dangerously close to her hiding spot.
Havoc's jaw tightened.
"System," he breathed quietly, eyes locked on both anomalies. "This just got complicated."
He hadn't scanned them yet.
He didn't know what class they were.
He didn't know what their behavior patterns were.
But he did know this:
There was a child caught between two SCPs.
And he was the only one here to stop it.
Havoc pushed forward through the jungle, every sense sharpened by the steady rhythm of his own footsteps.
He was hyper-aware now—not panicked, not frozen—just alert. The daylight still filtered warmly through the trees, but the air felt heavier the deeper he moved. His rifle stayed angled forward, his head turning slightly at every shift of leaves.
Then—
"Alert: Human life detected."
Havoc stopped instantly.
He didn't even flinch at the system's voice this time. He had grown used to it cutting into his thoughts.
But the words themselves made him freeze.
"Human life?" he repeated under his breath.
He hadn't asked for clarification. He didn't need to.
He was in another world.
Of course there were people here.
It had always been inevitable.
Still, the confirmation hit him differently than expected.
People meant witnesses.
Witnesses meant questions.
Questions meant complications.
He glanced down at his prototype uniform and the rifle in his hands.
"…This is going to be awkward," he muttered. "Hope nobody asks too many questions."
Then—
A scream.
High-pitched.
Panicked.
Young.
Havoc's thoughts snapped into focus.
The scream cut through the forest like a blade. It wasn't distant—it was near. Too near.
His heart slammed in his chest.
That wasn't a threat alert.
That was a child.
Without thinking, Havoc broke into a run.
Branches whipped past him as he pushed forward, boots pounding into dirt and leaf litter. He completely forgot about caution, forgot about stealth, forgot about distance tracking.
He wasn't about to let some kid get hurt.
There were lines he didn't cross.
And one of them was letting a child suffer because he hesitated.
"System!" he barked. "Distance!"
"Multiple life signs converging. One human. Two anomalous signatures. Seventy meters."
He ran harder.
He didn't care if the anomaly heard him.
Didn't care if it sensed him.
If something was threatening a kid—
He was stepping in.
He didn't tolerate people who abused power. Didn't tolerate cruelty disguised as strength. Didn't tolerate anyone who hurt those weaker than them for no reason.
And hurting a child?
That wasn't something he could stand by and watch.
"Forty meters."
Through the trees, movement flickered.
The ground ahead was torn up—branches broken, earth gouged, leaves scattered.
"Twenty-five meters."
Havoc burst through the last line of dense brush—
—and stopped dead in his tracks.
What he saw made his brain take a full second to process.
In a small clearing, towering between broken trees, was a massive centipede.
Its elongated body was thick, segmented, and covered in a slick chitinous sheen that reflected the sunlight in dull browns and grimy reds. Dozens upon dozens of twitching legs rippled beneath it, moving in coordinated waves as it reared partially upright. Its front mandibles snapped sharply in agitated clicks, cutting at the air with predatory intent.
Opposite it—
Was a piñata.
A bright, roughly human-shaped piñata.
Its body was made of layered, colorful paper—reds, yellows, blues—though parts of it were ripped and frayed as if damaged. Candy and stuffing-like material spilled from small tears along its side. Its limbs jerked with unnatural animation, moving in quick, spastic bursts as it lunged at the centipede with awkward but forceful swings.
The sight was absurd.
A gigantic centipede and a violent party decoration locked in combat.
Paper and chitin clashed in a violent storm of unnatural movement. The centipede lunged forward, jaws snapping, while the piñata swung stiff arms down like blunt weapons, striking with surprising force.
It was bizarre.
It was surreal.
It was wrong.
For a split second, Havoc stared.
Then he snapped out of it.
This is your job.
Weird. Unnatural. Impossible.
This was exactly what he signed up for.
But he wasn't focused on the anomalies.
He scanned quickly—
And saw her.
Near the base of a cracked tree trunk, partially hidden behind exposed roots, was a little girl.
She couldn't have been older than eight or nine. Her small frame was crouched low to the ground, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Long dark hair fell messily around her shoulders, partially covering her face as she shook.
Her wide eyes were fixed on the chaos unfolding in front of her.
Terrified.
Her clothes were simple and worn, slightly dirty from the forest ground. There was a tremble in her posture—like she had frozen in place and couldn't will her legs to move.
She looked—
Strangely familiar.
Something about her face tugged at Havoc's memory.
The shape of her eyes. The set of her expression. Something about the seriousness behind the fear.
But this wasn't the moment.
He didn't have time to figure out why she seemed familiar.
All that mattered was one thing.
She was in danger.
The centipede's massive body thrashed sideways, uprooting a clump of dirt dangerously close to her hiding spot.
Havoc's jaw tightened.
"System," he breathed quietly, eyes locked on both anomalies. "This just got complicated."
He hadn't scanned them yet.
He didn't know what class they were.
He didn't know what their behavior patterns were.
But he did know this:
There was a child caught between two SCPs.
And he was the only one here to stop it.
Havoc burst through the treeline and immediately spotted her.
The little girl was crouched behind a jagged rock at the edge of the clearing, her small frame pressed tightly against the stone as if it could shield her from what stood only meters away. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with terror. Her breathing came in short, uneven gasps. Her hands clutched the edge of the rock so tightly her knuckles had gone pale.
Behind her—
The forest shook.
The giant centipede anomaly lashed violently across the dirt, its long segmented body curling and uncoiling in heavy arcs. The chitinous plates along its back scraped loudly against tree trunks and exposed roots. Opposite it, the humanoid piñata anomaly staggered from the impact, parts of its outer shell torn open. Candy spilled from shallow ruptures in its paper-like body, scattering across the forest floor.
They clashed again.
The centipede lunged, its mass shifting and tightening with unnatural fluidity. The piñata anomaly swung one rigid limb in response, the blow striking with a heavy, hollow thud.
Havoc didn't understand what either of them were.
He didn't understand why they were fighting.
He only understood one thing—
There was a terrified child between them.
He rushed forward.
Branches snapped under his boots as he sprinted across the clearing, ignoring the instinct to analyze first. This wasn't a lab. This wasn't a prepared containment breach. It was a live situation.
And he was alone.
He dropped low beside the girl, lowering his rifle so it didn't look threatening. She flinched at his sudden appearance, scrambling backward slightly, her back hitting the rock.
"It's okay," he said quickly, raising his free hand in a calming gesture. "It's okay, I'm here to help. I'm not with them."
She stared at him, her fear not fully leaving. His uniform. His weapon. His sudden arrival. None of it screamed safe.
Behind them, the piñata anomaly jerked its body sharply and tried to push forward, but the centipede wrapped around it again, dragging it sideways. The ground tore under their combined struggle.
Havoc leaned closer, keeping his voice steady.
"You need to come with me. Right now."
Her eyes flicked past him toward the monsters again.
The centipede's massive body tightened like a living coil of muscle, its long form dragging across the soil. The piñata anomaly lurched, its head turning in their direction—focused.
Not random.
Focused.
Havoc noticed that.
His pulse spiked.
He extended his arms carefully. "Look at me," he said softly. "Hold on tight when I pick you up. Don't let go."
Something about her face tugged at him.
The sharpness of her gaze. The serious expression even through fear. He felt like he'd seen her before—like she belonged somewhere important in the back of his memory.
But that thought was buried under urgency.
Not now.
She hesitated only one more second.
Then she nodded.
Havoc moved fast.
He lifted her from behind the rock, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. She was lighter than he expected. Too light.
"Hold on," he whispered.
The moment he stood—
The piñata anomaly reacted.
It shoved violently against the centipede's body and pivoted toward them. Its rigid limbs jerked forward with sudden force.
It was close.
Too close.
It lunged with sudden momentum, its body tilting forward, blunt limb swinging toward Havoc and the girl—
Then the centipede coiled hard around it.
The massive segmented body wrapped tightly, anchoring itself against the forest floor. Soil tore loose as the centipede dragged the piñata anomaly backward with surprising force. The piñata thrashed, trying to advance, but the centipede's coils tightened further, cutting off its movement.
Havoc felt a surge of relief—
And confusion.
Why is it only going after the piñata?
The centipede wasn't striking randomly.
It was intercepting.
Every time the piñata shifted toward Havoc and the girl, the centipede repositioned—blocking, dragging, tangling.
It almost looked intentional.
He didn't have time to process it.
He turned and ran.
Branches slapped against his shoulders as he sprinted through the forest, boots pounding into dirt and leaf litter. The girl clung to him tightly, her face buried against his shoulder.
Behind him, the struggle intensified.
Then—
He heard something.
A sound that did not belong.
Through the scraping of chitin and tearing of paper, through the crash of breaking branches—
A crackling voice.
Distorted.
Grinding.
Forced through something not built to speak.
"…Go… run…"
Havoc almost froze mid-step.
His muscles locked for half a second as shock shot through him.
Did that thing just—
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
Fear prickled up his spine, but he forced his legs to keep moving.
No time.
Doesn't matter.
Get her safe.
He pushed harder, breath ragged now.
"System!" he shouted. "Open the door! Now!"
"Confirmed. Extraction point opening."
Ahead of him, air warped like heat rising off pavement. Space folded inward between two trees. Metal framing snapped into existence with a heavy mechanical resonance as the pocket dimension hatch formed.
Behind him, something slammed hard against the forest floor.
Closer.
He didn't slow down.
He crossed the threshold in full stride, the girl still locked against his chest.
The instant they passed through—
The hatch sealed.
And the jungle vanished behind reinforced steel.