Havoc stepped back through the threshold, and the familiar sterile air of the pocket-dimension site wrapped around him.
The Eye Pods remained perched on his shoulders, releasing soft, content sounds—little squeaks that almost sounded like purring. One of them nudged closer, its smooth body brushing his cheek with an affectionate rub like a house pet claiming territory.
Havoc smiled despite himself.
"…You guys are way too comfortable already," he murmured.
They answered with another pair of quiet squeaks and settled in, unblinking eyes lazily tracking the clean lights of the facility as they passed.
He took a few steps forward, boots echoing gently against the polished floor.
"System," Havoc said, keeping his voice low, "take me to the containment room."
"Acknowledged," the system replied. "Routing to Containment Sector."
The hallway ahead shifted subtly, panels sliding with smooth precision. Directional lights illuminated in sequence, guiding him deeper into the site. As he walked, the environment changed from neutral white corridors to reinforced architecture built with purpose.
The Containment Sector opened before him.
The space was large and circular, lined with multiple reinforced chambers spaced evenly along the walls. Each chamber was constructed of layered transparent alloy and dense composite plating, with sealed access doors framed by glowing status indicators. Soft containment fields hummed faintly, invisible but present, filling the room with a sense of controlled restraint.
Floor markings divided the sector into zones, each clearly labeled for different containment needs. Observation windows overlooked the cells, paired with suspended monitoring equipment and mounted scanners that tracked movement, pressure, and anomalous fluctuations in real time.
Havoc slowed his pace, taking it all in.
"…This is legit," he said quietly. "Way more serious than I expected."
"The Containment Sector is designed for secure holding and monitoring of anomalies," the system explained. "Current configuration supports Safe-class entities and limited Euclid-class containment."
Havoc nodded, eyes moving from cell to cell.
"So this is where they stay," he said. "Not cages. Not prisons. Just… managed space."
"Correct," the system replied. "Containment, not punishment."
The Eye Pods shifted slightly on his shoulders, their eyes sweeping across the room as if instinctively evaluating it. One gave a curious squeak.
"Don't worry," Havoc said softly, glancing up at them. "This place is safer than that jungle. Nothing here is going to hurt you."
They responded by pressing closer against him, clearly unbothered.
Havoc stepped forward toward an empty chamber, the door already unlocking in anticipation.
"…Alright," he said under his breath. "Let's do this properly."
He walked deeper into the Containment Sector, ready to complete what he had started.
Havoc stopped in front of an empty containment chamber.
The room was pristine—sterile white from floor to ceiling, smooth walls uninterrupted except for subtle seams where panels could shift or reconfigure. Soft lighting filled the space evenly, leaving no shadow behind. It was identical to the others. Clean. Controlled. Empty.
The Eye Pods were still perched on his shoulders, pressing close and making those quiet, affectionate squeaks. One rubbed gently along the side of his face again, as if it had already decided this was where it belonged.
Havoc's chest tightened just a little.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "I know."
For a moment, it felt wrong—bringing them here after they had trusted him so easily. But he forced himself to refocus.
"System," he said, steadying his voice. "Is there a way to make the containment more… comfortable for them?"
There was a brief pause.
"Yes," the system replied.
"Containment environments may be configured to suit known comfort and behavioral requirements of contained anomalies."
Havoc turned slightly, listening closely.
"Using existing Foundation data," the system continued, "containment cells can be adjusted to meet satisfaction needs. This reduces stress and significantly lowers escape-attempt probabilities."
Havoc nodded slowly.
"…That makes sense," he said.
He hesitated, then asked another question.
"Then why doesn't the Foundation always do that?"
"Some anomalies lack sufficient environmental data," the system answered.
"Others possess hostile, unpredictable, or incompatible requirements."
"However, when reliable information is available, the Foundation does attempt to improve containment comfort."
Havoc exhaled.
"So when they know better… they do better."
"Correct."
"…Good," Havoc said quietly. "That's how it should be."
He looked back into the empty cell.
"Okay," he said. "Then how do I change this one—for them?"
"Containment customization can be performed through environmental configuration," the system explained.
"Design parameters may be altered based on stored anomaly data and Director authorization."
Havoc listened carefully as the system guided him through the process. As understanding settled in, he moved.
At his direction, the sterile walls softened in tone. Smooth platforms rose from the floor, forming gentle slopes and open spaces perfect for rolling and hopping. Transparent sections widened, allowing uninterrupted lines of sight. Lighting adjusted to a softer glow—never dim, never harsh.
Nothing restrictive. Nothing confining.
Just space designed to let them observe.
When he finished, Havoc stepped back.
"…That'll do."
The Eye Pods leaned forward, their large unblinking eyes taking everything in.
Then they slid off his shoulders.
They landed softly and immediately began rolling around the chamber, squeaking with clear excitement. One climbed a raised platform, the other followed, the two circling and repositioning themselves as they explored their new home.
Watching.
Moving.
Settling in.
Havoc felt a quiet sense of relief wash over him.
"…Welcome home," he said softly.
A soft chime echoed through the Containment Sector.
"SCP capture confirmed."
"Total anomalies contained: 1."
Havoc blinked.
"…One?"
He slowly looked back at the containment chamber, where the two Eye Pods were still rolling around happily, squeaking and exploring every surface.
"System," he said flatly, "there are two anomalies in that room."
"Correction," the system replied.
"SCP-131-A and SCP-131-B are classified as a paired anomalous entity."
"Containment is recorded as a single SCP."
Havoc stared for a second.
"…That's unfair," he muttered.
One Eye Pod rolled past the other, both repositioning themselves to look outward through the transparent panel.
He sighed and rubbed his face.
"Whatever. I don't have the energy to argue with paperwork logic."
Before the thought fully settled, another tone sounded—different this time. Lighter.
"New function unlocked."
Havoc froze.
"…What."
He turned his wrist, bringing up the A.R.E.S. Band interface instinctively.
"That shouldn't be possible yet," he said. "Most features need, like, three—four captures."
The interface responded, a small icon pulsing to life.
Function Unlocked: Audio Playback Module
Havoc stared at it.
Then his right eye twitched.
"…You're kidding."
"Negative," the system replied. "This function is active."
He took a slow breath, very deliberately keeping his tone calm.
"Okay," he said. "I'm going to ask this nicely."
"Why music?"
He gestured weakly at the band.
"And how exactly is that supposed to serve me on a journey where things are actively trying to kill me?"
"Audio playback serves multiple operational purposes," the system explained.
"Music has been shown to reduce stress, stabilize emotional states, and improve decision-making under pressure."
"The library contains all recorded music from your origin world."
Havoc let out a dry laugh.
"Oh, great," he said. "So while an anomaly is ripping me apart, I can listen to something nice."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Maybe some soft dinner music while I'm getting chewed on."
There was no response to that.
He sighed.
"…Still," he admitted after a moment, "I guess calming down would help."
He glanced at the band again, scrolling through the now-available interface.
"And hey," he added, a small smirk forming, "at least I don't have to pay ridiculous prices for music subscriptions anymore."
The Eye Pods squeaked faintly from inside their chamber, still content in their space.
Havoc looked back at them, then at the band.
"…Alright," he said. "I'll take it."
Not the most powerful upgrade.
But not useless either.
The system suddenly appeared directly in front of Havoc.
He jumped.
"—Whoa!" Havoc snapped, stumbling back a step. "What the hell—stop doing that!"
His heart slammed against his ribs as adrenaline spiked all over again.
"Seriously!" he barked. "You cannot just pop up like that!"
There was a brief pause.
"Noted," the system replied. "Future sudden appearances will be minimized."
Havoc dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard.
"Good," he muttered. "Because I'm really close to losing it."
He closed his eyes and focused on slowing his breathing, counting silently until his pulse finally settled.
"…Okay," he said, exhaling. "Now why did you rush in like that?"
"The Audio Playback Module contains an additional function," the system replied.
Havoc opened his eyes.
"…Hidden function?"
"Correct."
That immediately caught his attention.
He straightened a little. "Alright. I'm listening."
"While music is active, there is a probability-based enhancement to physical and cognitive performance."
Havoc froze.
"…What."
"Statistical increases may occur to strength, reaction speed, endurance, or focus," the system explained.
Havoc's eyes went wide.
"Wait—hold on. You're telling me music can buff me?"
"Yes."
His mouth slowly curled into a grin.
"…Okay, that's actually—"
"However," the system continued.
The grin vanished instantly.
"…Here it comes."
"Enhancements activate randomly," the system said. "Duration is limited to the length of the currently playing track."
Havoc's right eye twitched.
"…You just love doing this, don't you?"
"Negative."
"You love destroying hope," Havoc shot back. "Just absolutely crushing it."
"The intent is not to cause stress," the system replied evenly. "I am operating according to design parameters and providing assistance within defined limits."
Havoc stared at the floor for a second.
"So let me get this straight," he said. "I could be in the middle of a life-or-death fight, blasting the perfect hype song…"
"Correct."
"…and there's only a chance I actually get stronger."
"Correct."
"And it lasts as long as the song."
"Correct."
"…And the moment the song ends," Havoc added, "I'm back to being a normal guy with anxiety and bad luck."
"Statistically accurate."
His eye twitched again.
"You really know how to take something amazing," he said flatly, "and drop it like a bad stock."
He threw his hands up.
"This could've been incredible. Game-changing. Legendary. And instead it's—what—RNG cardio?"
"Randomization prevents dependency," the system replied. "It also encourages adaptive combat strategies."
Havoc laughed—short, sharp, and annoyed.
"Oh wow," he said. "You're right. Silly me. Why would I want consistency when unpredictability can make my life worse?"
The system was silent for a moment.
"Sarcasm detected."
"No kidding."
Havoc pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I get it," he said. "I really do. You're doing exactly what you're programmed to do. Limits. Balance. No handouts."
He looked up at the empty containment chamber, then back to the band on his wrist.
"But man," he muttered, "you really know how to make sure nothing stays awesome for long."
"Your progress is within acceptable parameters," the system said. "You are performing adequately as Director."
Havoc snorted.
"Adequately. Wow. High praise."
He sighed, shoulders dropping.
"…Still," he admitted after a moment, "I guess random buffs are better than no buffs."
He glanced at the band again.
"Guess I'll just have to pick my playlist carefully."
The system did not respond.
And somehow, that annoyed him just as much.
A new notification chimed, calmer this time.
"Additional reward unlocked."
"Mobile Sector access granted."
"Units available: 10 Foundation Basic Operatives."
Havoc paused.
"…Wait," he said. "Ten?"
"Correct."
Relief hit him harder than he expected.
"Oh, thank God," he muttered. "So I'm not doing this completely alone anymore."
He let his shoulders drop, tension draining out in a slow exhale.
"Because I'll be honest," he added, "the idea of running into more anomalies solo was really starting to mess with me."
There was a short pause.
"Observation," the system said. "Your response differs from previous reactions."
Havoc glanced at the interface.
"…How so?"
"You are not exhibiting signs of frustration or agitation."
He thought about it for a second.
"…Yeah," he admitted. "Guess I'm not."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I realized something," Havoc continued. "Getting mad every time things don't go my way is just going to wear me out."
He sighed.
"And I already know myself well enough to accept this: I'm going to keep forgetting questions. Important ones. All the time."
"Noted."
"So stopping every five minutes to argue with you about it?" he said. "That's just going to make things worse."
He shook his head lightly.
"I don't have the energy for that."
Silence followed, not awkward—just there.
Then Havoc asked, "So how do I unlock more soldiers?"
"For each SCP captured, ten additional Basic Operatives are added to the Mobile Sector," the system explained.
"Upon the capture of ten SCPs, a specialized unit type will be unlocked."
"Additionally, one hundred Basic Operatives will be granted at that threshold."
Havoc stared ahead, absorbing the numbers.
"…Right," he said after a moment.
No surprise. No sarcasm this time.
"That tracks."
He rubbed his face and let out a tired breath.
"Capture anomalies," he muttered. "Get more people. Get better tools. Same loop."
"Correct."
"…Yeah," Havoc said quietly. "I figured."
He straightened a little, expression calmer than before—not excited, not annoyed.
Just resigned.
"Alright," he said. "Let's keep moving."
For better or worse, he was already in it.
Then another calm chime echoed through the site, softer than before.
"Additional authorization granted."
Havoc blinked.
"…Authorization for what?" he asked.
"Anomaly trait selection available."
He frowned immediately.
"…That doesn't make sense," he said. "You told me I'd need to contain at least three SCPs before unlocking anomaly traits."
There was a brief pause, different from the others—shorter, almost deliberate.
"Correct," the system replied.
"An exception has been applied."
"Authorization granted in recognition of successful SCP containment."
Havoc stared at the air in front of him.
"…Huh."
A slow smile formed.
"You know what?" he said. "Maybe you're not that bad of a system after all."
He nodded once. "And maybe you're not entirely a logical downer."
"Statement acknowledged," the system replied.
Havoc crossed his arms, still smiling—
"Clarification," the system continued.
"Only one anomaly trait may be selected."
The smile vanished instantly.
"…And you ruined it," Havoc said flatly.
He sighed and shook his head.
"Of course it's only one."
His gaze drifted back toward the containment chamber, where the two Eye Pods were still rolling around their customized space, squeaking softly as they repositioned themselves, content and curious. Watching. Always watching.
"…So," Havoc muttered, "what do you guys have that I can use?"
The system responded by projecting three data panels in front of him.
ANOMALY TRAIT OPTIONS — SCP-131 (Eye Pods)
Trait Option: Peripheral Awareness
This trait enhances the user's situational awareness. When active, your ability to detect movement, changes in environment, and approaching threats is subtly increased. It does not provide foresight or prediction—but it reduces the chances of being caught off guard. Best suited for reconnaissance, defense, and early-warning scenarios.
Trait Option: Anomaly Focus Stability
This trait improves mental clarity when you are in proximity to anomalous entities. Fear responses are dampened, panic is reduced, and cognitive processing remains stable under stress. The trait does not remove fear entirely—it ensures fear does not impair judgment. Designed to support prolonged exposure to SCP environments.
Trait Option: Observational Instinct
This trait grants you an intuitive sense when anomalies are nearby or when something out of place demands attention. It does not identify the anomaly or its capabilities, but it nudges awareness toward "wrongness" in the environment—similar to how the Eye Pods naturally orient themselves toward danger.
The panels faded slowly.
Havoc remained silent.
He looked from the empty air back to the Eye Pods, then down at his hands.
"…All of these are… subtle," he murmured. "No laser eyes. No super strength. Just…"
"Survival-oriented enhancements," the system said.
"…Yeah," Havoc replied quietly. "Makes sense."
He exhaled, rubbing his chin as his thoughts turned inward.
See more.
Think clearer.
Notice danger faster.
"…Figures," he muttered. "Choosing one of these is gonna matter more than I want it to."
He looked back up, eyes steady now.
"…Alright," he said. "Let me think."
And for the first time since arriving in this world, Havoc wasn't thinking about power—
Only about staying alive long enough to make the right choice.