(Gotta love the noot babies..... they precious)
From- "Scenario Log-??? | SCP - 5000: Why?"
"Little gaurdddd! Wakey, wakey!~"
Cross groaned, blinking his sockets open sleepily, or more or less tried to. The surface he was laying on was soft and warm, though there was an underlying chill to it to keep him from sweating. The idea of moving seemed far off and laborious, Cross felt as if he could sleep for days.
His soul pulsed with a dangerous cocktail of emotions, anger, betrayal, and most of all fear. Had something happened? It had just been another normal day, right? But then... why was he asleep in the first place? He didn't remember going to sleep. He didn't even remember the rest of the day past the site higher-ups wanting to talk with him.
"Crossy-poo! Come on, up-and-at-em'!"
"Could you not be annoying right now."
"Aww, come on Dusty-poo! Someones gotta motivate our little pack-mate back to the world of the living."
Cross shuffled in his thinking haze, the voices going on over his head irrelevant. He had been in a room, with some of the other guards and Blue. That's right, Blue was there. But there was something wrong with his eyelights and his voice, like he wasn't really there.
He thinks on it harder, about what kind of conversation they had. Cross remembers the confusion and then...
And then it clicks in his head.
Blue had shot him. Three times.
Cross shoots up and scrambles for his holster, unable to find it right before something snakes around his waist and pushes him back down. He struggles briefly, till his head clears enough to recognize the voices and faces around him.
"Cross." Nightmare's wispy and ghostly form is partially underneath him. The tentacles that sprout from his shoulder blades to all the way down his spine, some forming tail-like limbs, are laid out in a nest-like structure. "Calm down."
Cross doesn't calm down, in fact, he starts to hyperventilate, hands pawing at the holes in his ribcage underneath his changed shirt.
"Your uniform was soaked in blood. Had to get rid of it." He jolts and looks up to find Dust floating above him.
"Cross." Nightmare calls to him once more, and Cross takes a deep breath. The eldritch was almost curled around him the way a dragon would its treasure, Killer and Horror leaning over their "Bosses" back to peer at him.
"Hi there!" Killer calls, cheerfully. "About time, we've got a decent amount of stuff to catch you up on."
He blinks at the SCP, before taking a deep breath. Emotional break down later, clearly something problematic had to happen for Nightmare to be this possessive or him.
Cross stills is breathing and moves slowly against the tentacles, Nightmare removes all but three, digitigrade legs stretched out lazily from where the entity lays on its side. Relaxed. That fact alone makes Cross feel a bit safer. They're not at a facility, the ruined insides of an abandoned warehouse are evident. But if Nightmare wasn't on the alert, then Cross wasn't too worried.
Killer raises a brow at his switch from panicked to calm, but Nightmare only smirks a small smile. "You were killed." The statement comes out smoothly, though Cross can see the hint of rage in his voice. "Dream brought you back, and gave you to me to look after."
Dying barely even touched to the surface of all the horrible things Cross has seen. He strangely didn't have too much of a problem with dying, it was the fact that Blue, of all people, was the one who killed him.
What had he done wrong? The higher-ups treasured him as a useful tool, why kill it off? Especially now, when everything had been going so smoothly.
Had a Cognitohazard gotten out? He hoped not, those things were a pain to deal with.
"Dust," Said SCP floated to attention, "Would you please bring me the laptop."
Cross directed a look a Nightmare, and the entity nodded towards Killer. Cross then gave Killer that look, and the SCP faked a hurt look. His quills spiking up at the accusation.
"What!? I thought it would come in handy! Foundation laptops don't need wifi." Horror let out a snorting growl and Killer poked him with one of his blades.
"How many people did you kill?"
"What! Me? I'd never do that."
Nightmare sighed sufferingly as Dust floated over with the laptop, opening it up and pulling up to the right page. The device is set in his hands and Cross narrows his eyesockets at the text. And the SCP Foundation logo above it.
"Cross. Prepare yourself." He does, and quietly thanks Nightmare for his calm demeanor before reading.
The following is a message composed via consensus of the O5 Council.
For those who are not currently aware of our existence, we represent the organization known as the SCP Foundation. Our previous mission centered around the containment and study of anomalous objects, entities and other assorted phenomena. This mission was the focus of our organization for more than one-hundred years.
Due to circumstances outside of our control, this directive has now changed. Our new mission will be the extermination of the human and monster race.
There will be no further communication.
"Gonna be honest, that's about the same reaction I had." Killer's voice sounds far away, distant.
Dust is the next to speak. "The Foundation sent this to every government and news organization globally. The whole planet's under attack right now."
Horror whines, Cross feels a hand rest on his shoulder but he doesn't respond to it. Still staring at the screen, reading the text over and over again.
"This is not only the reason why they decided to terminate you, but because of your nature as well. Error has informed you of your SCP-00X status in the files. The Foundation started its new "mission" by terminating any human and monster sympathetic SCPs. That includes you, Dream, and Outer. Who are both safe, of course"
"As of now, they are slowly releasing every one of us. SCP-096's face is circulating around social media, SCP - 682 is having its fun in major cities. I'm sure you get the picture."
Nightmare was correct. Cross did get the picture.
The world wasn't going to last very long.
