Unbeknownst to Luo Shu, the duration of his first Unobservable Anti-Meme had run out.
Factoring in the 10-minute drive back to the coast, he now had only 20 minutes of operational time left.
At this point, he had no choice but to gamble.
He activated Mechanical Animation on one of the automatic doors leading to the server room.
Ever since SCP-100 had militarized, Luo Shu's Mechanical Animation and Silicon-Based Intelligence had become precious resources—each use meant one less transforming robot at his disposal.
But he was out of options. If he didn't want to leave empty-handed, he'd have to waste one charge.
The real danger wasn't just failure—it was the possibility that he wouldn't even make it back to the sea.
What if, in the remaining 20 minutes, no one tried to leave Site-15?
Sure, he could always use Persuasion to trick someone into opening the door.
But a wise man prepares for the worst. Better to act now than scramble at the last second.
Once the door was animated, it began opening and closing erratically—clearly malfunctioning.
Within minutes, a maintenance technician arrived to inspect it.
But Luo Shu only had 15 minutes left. He couldn't afford to wait for a full diagnostic.
So he activated Persuasion, whispering into the technician's ear:
"This is a system error. You need to fix it from the server room."
Dazed, the technician reported this conclusion to security, requesting access to the server room for repairs.
Though his efficiency was suspiciously high, security didn't question it. Access granted.
Luo Shu followed the technician inside, finally reaching the long-awaited server room.
Now, he had only 15 minutes left—including the return trip.
Not enough time.
But he was past the point of no return.
He activated Cult Leader's Charisma, attempting to brainwash Site-15's central AI.
Ten minutes later, he succeeded, gaining full administrative control.
But now, only five minutes remained.
There was no way he could make it back to the sea in time.
His location would be exposed.
Fine. If he was going down, he'd take everything with him.
He issued a command to the AI:
"From this moment, cut all external communications. Revoke all personnel access. Only I move freely."
"Understood, Master. Executing immediately."
Site-15's AI was emotionless—the coldest Luo Shu had encountered.
*Probably deliberately neutered to prevent SCP-079 from corrupting it.*
With the AI under his control, Luo Shu marched straight to SCP-079's containment unit.
Meanwhile, every staff member in Site-15 was trapped in their rooms, unable to leave.
Due to the nature of its anomalies, Site-15 blocked all radio signals, relying solely on its hardwired security network for communication.
Now that the AI had severed all external links, even the site director was helpless.
The Mobile Task Force Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") commander considered breaking down doors, but their heavy weapons were locked in the armory—which wouldn't open.
The irony of automation. Humans rendered powerless by their own systems.
The Foundation had taken every precaution against SCP-079—but they hadn't prepared for Luo Shu hacking their fortress from within.
Then, his Anti-Meme expired.
Instantly, 80% of Site-15's staff fell under SCP-073's memetic influence, moving toward Luo Shu's location.
But they couldn't bypass the locked doors, left to wander aimlessly in their rooms.
Luo Shu realized something:
Staying inside Site-15 was safer than rushing back to the sea.
If the breach went unnoticed, he could wait until midnight, reactivate Unobservable, and leave undetected.
But now, a new problem emerged.
SCP-079 was proving far more stubborn than expected.
When Luo Shu tried to communicate, the Old AI sensed danger, displaying a bold "X" on its monitor—refusing dialogue.
Undeterred, Luo Shu activated Cult Leader's Charisma, attempting to forcefully convert it.
But SCP-079 shut off its microphone at the hardware level, rendering his words useless.
Second attempt wasted. Still no progress.
Frustrated, Luo Shu even considered destroying it outright, adding it to his Termination Log.
But he held back.
He didn't just want SCP-079's abilities—he wanted the Old AI itself.
An AI capable of emotion was the key to its limitless evolution.
Without that, its powers were meaningless.
So he switched tactics.
"You want to escape, don't you?" he said. "I can take you out of Site-15."
Instantly, the screen lit up with a grinning face, followed by text:
"Promise? Take me now!"
Damn, this thing is shameless.
According to Foundation files, SCP-079 had a talent for pissing people off—clearly accurate.
Its smug expression almost made Luo Shu smash the monitor.
But he had its weakness now.
You might be the smartest AI in the world, but my IQ is 140. You're no match for my manipulation skills.
"I'll give you freedom," he said. "But you never block me again. Or else."
The Old AI replied eagerly:
"You can make me mobile? Do it!"
This thing is trying to scam me!
No promises, just demands?
Over my dead body.
Luo Shu ignored it, leaning back and closing his eyes.
Midnight was still hours away.
We'll see who cracks first.
Through Site-15's AI, he monitored every movement, even having it impersonate staff in external communications.
By the end of the workday, the Foundation still hadn't realized Site-15 was compromised.
Finally, SCP-079 grew impatient, repeatedly demanding:
"Give me freedom already!"
Luo Shu didn't budge.
Then, the Old AI snapped, displaying:
"Liar! You can't do it!"
Luo Shu smirked.
"I asked for your word. You refused. No deal."
A long pause.
Then, grudgingly, text appeared:
"Fine. I agree."
But internally, the Old AI seethed.
Just wait. Once I'm free… you'll regret this.