Chapter 398 - My OC Stash #98 - Fate/Black Moon by the new (SCPFoundationXNasuverse) (1/2)

-I hope we'll get some real helpful SCP's screen time for this Grail War~ Fic is a rewrite so hopefully it pops off with chapters soon

Synopsis: ???

Rated: ???

Words: 5.3K

Posted on: forums.spacebattles.com/threads/fate-black-moon-scp-foundation-nasuverse.886235/ (the new)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics/originals mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1

O5-8

Overseers were busy people.

Third in command of foundational operations, they were the authority within the Foundation, working side-by-side with the Ethics Committee, as the Administrator rarely intervened. Handling in overwatch of a department and day to day foundation activities, the Overseer Council was the inner circle that decided what was to happen next within the Foundation.

Every Overseer held a very special job, and dozens of not so special ones.

As an example, Thirteenth Overseers were typically responsible for the role of keeping an eye on the other Overseers- in order to guarantee that they wouldn't betray the Foundation for the sake of their own agendas. They, therefore, rarely meddled in other affairs not connected directly to the Council, such as diplomatic relations with other factions of the world.

That outpost was in there, officially, to serve as a place to send reports to, to review projects and house Foundation bureaucrats who weren't supposed to stay anywhere else.

Unnoficially, it was the place he had built to stay in.

He was, at this moment, whistling a merry tune.

In his left hand, a dozen copper rings, embedded with plastic gems, shone. They didn't have any real function. Eight just found them pretty. He continued his walk down the street, now singing loudly. No one really paid attention to him, and he was very happy for that.

It would make his day easier.

He kept walking. No one paid attention on him. That was very good. He soon found himself in the building's lobby. It was a plain, clean, white one which perfectly embodied the Foundation's sense of aesthetics.

Normally, that meant ”make it all white and rip off a hospital,” but it actually went quite well with this specific site's architecture.

He waved to the outpost's recepcionist, Anthony. He was probably the only person who actually knew who Eight actually was. Anthony, sitting in his plain white chair, narrowed his eyes at him, clearly suspicious of his presence. Well, Eight couldn't blame him. He normally only arrived at around 12 o'clock.

Offering his hand to Anthony, he smiled widely. Anthony grit his teeth.

”Keycard.” he said, clearly making an effort to stay polite.

Eight snickered and took his O5 keycard out of his pocket. Anthony stared at the card for a while, and stared at him with a very cold look. Eight knew that Anthony was holding a revolver right now. He

always kept one behind his desk.

Anthony did not like imposters one bit. He placed the card in the scanner, staring deep into his eyes while the machine did its job.

It, after a while, simply made a little ”beep” and clicked. The card had been accepted. Anthony looked into his eyes, still clearly suspicious. Eight offered his hand. Anthony shook it, and gestured towards another scanner in the desk. A biometric one.

He placed his hand in the scanner, and waited.

”How is your day going, Anthony?” said Eight, while the machine did its job.

”Good.” answered the doorman, dryly.

The scanner made a buzzing sound, proving that he wasn't secretly an imposter. Well, that was a relief. What if he actually was an imposter? An imposter so amazingly talented at their job that they had managed to fool themselves and the entire Foundation. What if he was one?

Nah, the scanner proved otherwise.

”You can go. Move already, sir.” said Anthony, placing his gun back in the place where it was hidden- taped below his desk.

Anthony made another gesture, and Eight walked away. Well, now he could be sure he wasn't an imposter.

After a while, he found himself in the elevator. He shrugged, and looked around. There wasn't anyone around. Eight pressed a button, and closed his eyes as the lift went up. A song begun to play. Eight opened his eyes and stared at the roof of the elevator.

”Eh, Stayin' Alive. Seriously?” the Overseer said to no one in particular.

He shook his head. He should really ask someone to change the song. It was annoying to listen to these three hobos singing, drunk on cheap helium, about staying alive. Hell, most people had no problems staying alive, it wasn't really that hard. The problem was to what depths you would sink in order to actually stay alive.

Not really people, yeah. There were a lot who couldn't. But a starving man could eat the flesh of others, and a thirsty man could drink blood.

Who knew?

The elevator stopped moving. With a hiss, the door opened. Floor 3.

Walking out of the small metallic container, O5-8 looked around for any wandering researchers. None. There wasn't anyone in here at this hour. Every researcher was working in their own, unimportant tasks. Security was watching over these tasks.

Eight walked towards his office, a smile in his face,

No one really bothered watching over this floor, as there wasn't anything of interest in it. It was a mundane storage. A warehouse, of sorts. Pens, pencils, paper, forms and stamps, printers, laptops and notebooks. Things like that.

Stuff that you needed to watch over, yes.

There were a few guards in here, but not as much as the anomalies had. Protecting horrifying artifacts of untold power was more important to watch over a stockpile of mundane shit. Most of these guards knew that they shouldn't mess with Eight.

Obviously, they didn't know that he was an Overseer. They just thought he was important, but not that much.

One of these guards, as O5-8 passed through him, looked into his eyes. He knew that his office was in this floor, and didn't really care. It made sense, after all. Some big guy would hide his office in the place everyone thought was unimportant. Genius.