The Underground Base

"God" had reclaimed the life he had bestowed upon SCP-CN-722-5. In an instant, the girl turned into a pile of dry bones.

In truth, SCP-CN-722-5 had died 13 years ago. It was "God's" reality-warping ability that had brought her back to life—a power that twisted time itself.

"God" had rewound SCP-CN-722-5's timeline to the moment just before her death, freezing her in that state.

From then on, she existed in a limbo between life and death, serving as "God's" enforcer in China.

Now, by undoing that temporal distortion, "God" allowed those missing 13 years to catch up. Her body rapidly decayed, progressing from her death in 1998 to the present year of 2011.

This pile of bones was her true form all along.

Death was not always the most painful part. The real suffering came in the moments before it—when agony, both physical and mental, peaked. Death itself was often a release.

For all these years, SCP-CN-722-5 had been trapped in that moment of torment. Now, at last, she was free.

The moment SCP-CN-722-5 fell, Luoshu—thousands of miles away in the New Continent—felt a pang in his heart. Instinctively, he opened The SCP Field Guide.

On the title page, under the Anomalous Friends Milestone, SCP-CN-722-5's entry had been blacked out.

Though he didn't know the details, Luoshu could guess: the Foundation or "God" had done this.

"I failed you. Rest in peace, my friend."

At this moment, he was driving along a highway in rural South Carolina.

Losing SCP-CN-722-5 hurt, but here lay his first Anomalous Friend—SCP-100 (Jamaican Joe's Junkyard Carnival).

It was here that Luoshu had unlocked the Anomalous Friends Milestone.

And after breaking free from the Foundation, it was SCP-100 that had funded his operations.

A friend beyond reproach.

Yet Luoshu chose this place to stash his belongings for another reason entirely.

At dawn, using Sensory Isolation, Luoshu slipped past the Foundation's perimeter and infiltrated SCP-100's junkyard.

Mountains of scrapped cars towered around him. Half-built Autobots sat idle while swarms of small industrial robots welded and assembled.

In a nearby warehouse, SCP-100-1 lounged with its metal legs propped on a desk, idly playing with its pet SCP-100-2-A and SCP-100-2-B (mechanical insects).

The moment it spotted Luoshu, SCP-100-1 scrambled to greet him.

Still raw from losing SCP-CN-722-5, Luoshu pulled the robot into a tight hug.

The embrace lasted only seconds before the uncomfortable metal frame snapped him back to practicality.

"Buddy, how've you been?"

SCP-100-1 couldn't speak, but it nodded vigorously.

Life had been good. Profitable.

Though it had no use for money, the robot's miserly nature thrived on watching its account balance grow.

Luoshu patted its shoulder. "I know you love making friends, not just cash."

SCP-100-1 nodded again.

"But the Foundation won't let you keep too many, huh?"

Luoshu understood its constraints. Initially, the Foundation had only permitted two mechanical pets. Later, after SCP-100-1's rebellion (instigated by the Chaos Insurgency), a compromise was struck: it could keep a team of industrial robots to build and sell Autobots.

It was a comfortable life.

But Luoshu had bigger plans.

Leaning in, he whispered, "Want to secretly build an army of friends?"

SCP-100-1's eyes lit up like headlights.

"You know how Foundation sites work?"

A shake of the head. Confined to its 5,000-square-meter junkyard, SCP-100-1 had never seen a real site.

"They're all facades. The real stuff is underground."

SCP-100-1's optics brightened. It pointed at the ground.

"Exactly." Luoshu grinned. "Start digging. Build yourself an underground base."

SCP-100's anomalous properties were limited to its fenced area—but no rule stated that area had to be flat.

The Foundation had always assumed monitoring the surface was enough.

Neither they nor SCP-100-1 had considered expanding vertically.

Luoshu's idea was revolutionary: turn the 5,000-square-meter limit into a three-dimensional domain.

SCP-100-1 looked like it was about to short-circuit from excitement.

Next came the details:

Skimp on materials in sold Autobots to secretly stockpile resources.

Hide excavated dirt inside Autobot chassis for discreet disposal.

SCP-100-1 absorbed every word like gospel. Construction began immediately.

Finally, Luoshu handed over the sealed bag.

"Keep this safe for me, brother. In your new base."

As SCP-100-1 scurried off, Luoshu checked his watch.

Time to return to China.

The Foundation had no idea what was coming.

And beneath an unassuming junkyard, a mechanical empire was about to rise.