"Every containment on the list was classified the same as SCP-015 — Euclid class, Danger Level 1."
Linray scrolled through the containment list, frowning. "But the designations are completely different..."
"Doesn't matter which one I pick. They're all going to suck."
He leaned back in the chair. "What do you think, Red Queen?"
"Overseer, the most pressing matter right now is SCP-024."
No hesitation. No opinion. Just Red Queen being Red Queen.
The moment Linray said the designation out loud, the light screen locked onto a red marker and magnified the position.
*"SCP-024 — Death Show. Classification: Euclid. Danger Level: 1."*
*SCP-024 occupies an undetectable spatial anomaly. Due to its properties, internal containment is impossible — the Foundation constructed an external concealment perimeter around its location.*
*SCP-024 manifests as a film studio. Its internal space reconfigures with each game cycle. It sends invitations to nearby civilians. Winners receive anomalous prizes. Losers are eliminated.*
*A host — audible but never visible — announces game objectives and enforces rules. Attempts to disrupt or cheat trigger immediate response from studio guardians: entities of unknown origin capable of instantaneous manifestation. Resistance is not advised.*
*Following the rules is the only survivable strategy.*
*SCP-024 typically produces one winner per cycle. All other participants disappear.*
"Overseer," Red Queen continued, "SCP-024 has caused the disappearance of at least hundreds of civilians. However, all prizes issued are genuine and functional. With the Foundation no longer operational, word has spread — online rumors, forum posts, word of mouth. Civilians now seek entry in increasing numbers."
"The impact on the surrounding area is significant. Containment is recommended immediately."
"So find the host," Linray said slowly. "Make him show himself. Kill him. Then contain the whole thing."
He held his chin, staring at the briefing. The so-called "punishment" was death — no question about that. And containment meant he'd have to play the game himself.
The real problem? SCP-024 didn't accept solo players. If only one person entered, the host would politely escort them out — and then manipulate them into bringing more people.
*So I walk in, and everyone who follows me is probably going to die.*
"The Overseer need not bear the psychological burden," Red Queen said flatly. "These are not people you invite. They enter voluntarily — eagerly, in most cases."
Linray nodded. That didn't make it better, but it made it simpler.
But if he didn't contain this thing, more people would keep walking in. And none of them knew it was a death sentence.
*Since when do I care?*
He pushed the thought aside. Didn't matter why. Mission was the mission.
Red Queen began locking coordinates. The beam of light wrapped around him — familiar now, but no less uncomfortable.
*"Coordinate lock. Transferring."*
His body dissolved. That stretching, pulling sensation — particles scattering and reassembling somewhere else. He'd done this enough times that the nausea was manageable. Barely.
---
Sunlight. Concrete. The smell of old paint and dust.
Linray materialized in the middle of what used to be a film studio complex. Massive. Sprawling. And completely dead.
"SCP-024's containment perimeter," Red Queen reported. "The Foundation constructed a concealment barrier around the anomaly's location. The surrounding facilities were evacuated and decommissioned."
Linray looked around. Faded set pieces. Crumbling facades meant to look like old buildings. Fake streets that led nowhere. The whole place was a ghost town dressed up as a movie set.
*Why a studio complex, though? Why not just a concrete box and a keep-out sign?*
He almost asked Red Queen. Then thought better of it. Most Foundation decisions were above his clearance anyway.
He followed the route map Red Queen had loaded into his memory.
The whole complex felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still. If it weren't for the SCPs, he could almost pretend this was just... normal life. His old life. No containment missions, no interdimensional chat groups, no body that dissolved into light.
Almost.
"This is it."
The studio ahead was massive — taller than the surrounding buildings, flanked by several identical structures. All dark, all empty. Except this one. Yellow tape across the entrance. A faded sign: **NO ENTRY.**
The door was wide open.
*Of course it is.*
Twenty people stood in front of the entrance, waiting to go in. Civilians. Eager. Hungry for whatever prize SCP-024 was dangling this time.
"There's really a crowd of people lining up to die," Linray muttered. "Unbelievable."
He moved toward the front. A kid — young, red hair, earrings, attitude — stepped in his way.
"Hey. Everyone's waiting in line. You think you can just cut?"
The kid raised a fist. Linray looked at it, then at him. The kid couldn't have been older than twenty.
*Cute.*
Linray glanced past him at the inner door. Still closed. Someone was still playing the current round.
"Looks like the next round is all twenty-one of us," Linray said calmly, stepping back. "So how about we get to know each other? Everyone's here for the prizes, right?"
He smiled. Not angry. Not threatened. The red-haired kid wasn't worth the energy.
"Tch. The prize is mine." The kid pulled a girl in plain clothes closer to him — protective, possessive. "Don't worry, babe. I'll win it for sure."
Linray scanned the crowd. The red-haired kid and his girlfriend — that was one pair. The rest were men. Strangers. Nobody standing too close to anyone else. Everyone keeping a safe distance, sizing each other up.
*Twenty people. All strangers. All competitors.*
He looked back at the girl. Simple clothes, shy expression, quiet. What the hell was she doing with this loudmouth?
"Hello — I'm Harlan." A man in casual clothes and gold-rimmed glasses approached with a practiced smile and an extended hand. "If the game requires cooperation, I think we should consider joining forces."
"Linray."
They shook hands. Linray stepped back and studied him. Business handshake. Confident posture. The kind of guy who knew how to work a room. Useful — maybe. Trustworthy — too early to tell.
Then he turned to the girl. "Hey — you might want to wait outside. Whatever's in there probably isn't friendly."
The girl glanced at her boyfriend, uncertain.
"Sera, just stay out here." The red-haired kid's voice softened — surprising. "You're not dressed for this. I'll go in alone."
She nodded quietly.
*Huh. So the loudmouth actually has a heart.*
Linray turned back toward the studio door. Still closed. Whatever was happening inside was still happening.
And then — it opened.
A wave of air drifted out. Sweet. Faint. And underneath it, something metallic. Something wrong.
*That's blood.*
Linray's jaw set. Twenty people were about to walk into whatever had made that smell.
And he was going to be one of them.