The elevator stank of burnt wiring and adrenal sweat. Lucas Hayes came to consciousness with his cheek pressed against cold steel, the floor vibrating with the machine's perpetual ascent. A cracked display panel flickered: DAY 9 | SAFETY DURATION 00:03:44.
Three warped tones echoed as the system imprinted directly onto his retinas:
[Precognitive Matrix Activated]
[Sector Transition Imminent]
His vision fractured into augmented reality overlays. Bloodshot eyes darted between floating diagnostics:
[Destination: Floor 248]
Threat Classification: Standard Biohazards (Homo corruptus) x20
Recommended Arsenal: Bladed weapons (76% efficacy)
Reward Manifest: Silver Cache (Full eradication required)
Lucas gripped the shock-baton strapped to his thigh, its ceramic surface still smeared with luminescent fungal spores from yesterday's skirmish. The elevator's speakers emitted a decaying piano chord as new text scrolled through static:
[Destination: Floor 249]
Containment Unit: Obsidian Reliquary (SCP-XXXX Variant)
Threat Level: White (Placid)
His boot tapped rhythm against the floor where Natalie Evans had bled out seven cycles ago. The memory played in crystal clarity - her screams syncing perfectly with the elevator's current pitch-shifted rendition of Clair de Lune.
[Destination: Floor 250]
Entity Designation: Noctis lamia (Cognitive Hazard Class C)*
Survival Probability: 41.2±18%
The control panel erupted in fractal patterns as reality glitched. Lucas glimpsed William Carter's skeleton key lodged in the emergency brake slot - the same key that had melted through three layers of Kevlar when its owner died.
"Beta protocol. Always beta." He smashed blood-crusted knuckles against the floor selector. The elevator screamed in harmonic resonance as it deviated from its programmed path.
