The room was colder than any place Cassandra had ever been.
Deep underground, buried beneath layers of reinforced concrete and encrypted protocols, the O5 Council gathered.
Thirteen chairs encircled a polished obsidian table. Each seat held a figure cloaked in shadows, their faces hidden behind translucent masks anonymity paramount. Even among themselves, secrecy reigned supreme.
At the head of the table sat O5-1, the First Overseer, whose calm voice carried the weight of worlds.
"Ladies and gentlemen," O5-1 began, voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel, "our situation with SCP-7329 or should I say, subject Rayne has escalated beyond precedent."
A low murmur rose.
O5-3, a woman known for her surgical precision in decision-making, leaned forward.
"The Foundation's containment is compromised. Site-71 is effectively lost."
O5-7, a grizzled veteran, slammed a fist on the table. "She's rewriting reality itself. Conventional containment protocols have failed. Attempts to cognitohazard suppression only seem to accelerate the anomaly."
O5-11, younger and more idealistic, shook his head. "We must consider negotiation. If SCP-7329 is sentient if Cassandra retains her consciousness we might reach a symbiosis."
The chamber filled with cold laughter.
O5-5, a figure rarely heard but always feared, spoke softly:
"We do not negotiate with endings. The 'sentence' she carries is a finality. It will erase the Foundation if left unchecked."
O5-9, a historian among them, tapped his finger against a dossier.
"We've seen precursors before. Linguistic anomalies with memetic vectors have fractured entire realities. This is not just another SCP. This is an existential event."
O5-13, silent until now, finally spoke with measured tone:
"The Administrator demands options beyond fire and forget. She wants a solution. The world depends on it."
O5-1 nodded solemnly.
"We've authorized all possible measures. Antimemetics, reality anchors, and as last resort involvement of SCP-343."
Another murmur.
O5-4, known for her distrust of the so called "God," muttered, "Even he admitted this is beyond rewriting. We risk more than just containment we risk annihilation."
O5-2 adjusted his mask.
"The paradox dimension containment is holding for now, but for how long? The longer she remains, the more the sentence gnaws at the fabric of our reality."
O5-10, always pragmatic, concluded, "We prepare for inevitable breach scenarios and potential global memetic fallout."
Silence fell.
Then O5-1's voice broke through the gloom with chilling finality:
"Very well. The crisis has become our story."
He paused, then smiled beneath the mask.
"Who will write the report to The Administrator?"
The chamber remained still.
A single moment of hesitation, heavy like the weight of worlds.
Then, O5-6 the youngest, known for her ruthless efficiency stood.
"I will take it," she said.
O5-1 nodded approvingly.
"Good. Make it thorough. And remember some words cannot be unspoken."
The council members rose silently, the meeting adjourned.
Outside the chamber, the Foundation's machinery churned, reality trembling on a razor's edge.
And somewhere, beyond all knowing, the Administrator waited.