SCP Foundation

Flea rarely got the chance to see the world from such a height. Oddly beautiful, as ever. The sun was long set, leaving only a pulsing morass of neon beneath her dangling boots. A few angular arcologies shone like angular suns through their countless windows. Far more skyscrapers were entirely dark, cutting stark shadows against clouds. Hovering cars and spotlight drones flitted about. A few at her height, most far below. Beautiful. Alive.

The fist around her collar opened. She fell.

The air at the shelter's nadir smelled like salt water and old fish. It felt like standing at the gloomy shore bordering her family's estate. Like wading into the dark shallows. Like diving into the ocean depths. Flea gasped and rasped in the strange air, but there was nothing else to do but carry on. Her pod was out of power. Her food had long vanished. Fate and luck would bless her so long as she reached out to grasp its favors. Step by step, she approached the final door in the complex. Inch by inch, she wedged her fingers into the slight gap at one side. Grunt by grunt, she wrenched it open.

"You wanna talk?" she asked, puffing up more than she had any right to. "So talk."

The woman sniffed loudly and adjusted her surgical mask. Her hands looked well-kept for someone whose job surely involved dirtying them. Even nails, smooth skin, not even a scar to be seen. More than could be said of Flea's own. "You've got a bug on your shoulder."

"Yeah, and?"

"You smell awful too."

"Yeah, and?"

One strangled gasp clawed its way out from her lungs, then a second, and a third. They slowed to a full stop deep within the city's underbelly, probably not even a few levels above the reactor-powered fans that pulled down atmosphere for use in the Great Lakes Megagrid's searing heart. Even then, their own hum was more than audible under the car's, and it sounded far less content.

"Use the disguise to reach floor eighty-nine. No fucking around with the eyeball yet or someone might notice. Keep the hat low, don't look at any cameras, and the badge should be enough for accessing the lower-security sections. Subterfuge obviously isn't your strongest trait, but make a go at it for all our sakes."

SCP-3649: Overcast and Overwhelming

Project SKYSCRAPER-31 is to develop methods for the penetration of SCP-3649. Project SKYSCRAPER-32 is to determine the feasibility of alternative means of terrestrial evacuation. Project SKYSCRAPER-33 is to devise a broad range of social preservation and containment contingency plans for the failure of all other SKYSCRAPER projects.

19 iterations of SCP-3649 Special Containment Procedures have been archived and hidden.

Maim the Sky, Slay the Sun

Someone stole fire from the gods. Was the crime symbolic, literal, or something in between? It never mattered. Did mortals do it? One of their own? Just as unimportant. It was stolen, and the gods wanted it back. They lashed out in the way gods always do, with spiteful light and ferocious dark. Their ultimatums promised destruction, and their faithful's pleas went unanswered.