If the 'weakest' O5 was summoned in the Fourth Fuyuki War Singularity (C)

[AN]

[For some who didn't get why Kariya didn't die when he was touched by the Plague Doctor: SCP-049 is capable of causing all biological functions of an organism to cease through direct skin contact. Kariya isn't naked. And 049 can operate without directly touching Kariya. Tools, duh.

So, no reanimated zombie Kariya.

Oh, and for people complaining about how the tone of the story changed with Dr. Bright as a semi-MC: He is a real troublemaker. In other words, this chaos is CANON, and this is only the tip of the iceberg. This fic is serious. Heh.

Now, since that's cleared up, here we go!]

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"Ah-HA! I got it! That was why Zouken was so persistent! SCP-2718 contaminated him!"

Kariya's eyes were blurry, and his head throbbed and pounded as if it was assaulted by a million giant wasps from the inside. He felt as if he was asleep for a very long time.

A familiar voice was speaking nearby. A voice...?

Berserker. SCP. The Foundation. Zouken's gruesome possession. His operation.

Kariya bolted upwards, only to moan as agonizing pain shot through his abdomen. He crashed back onto the operating table.

The voice...Berserker paid him no heed. The mad doctor was pacing back and forth with an amused grin on his face, talking to himself in that characteristically jovial tone.

"How peculiar...it should be impossible for someone who did not retain memory from their death...any thoughts, SCP-035?"

The possessive mask morphed its exaggerated expression into something that resembled equal amounts of mockery and fake confusion.

"How could I know something the great doctor does not know? I am but a humble mind controller-"

The chain around Berserker's neck rustled. The barbed tip that separated itself from the chains reared its metallic pointed head like a cobra.

The mask instantly backpedaled. With a complete 180-degree change in its previous jester-like attitude, it started blabbering.

"-aaaaaaaand on second thought, Zouken did have the most overwhelming fear towards death itself so...if I may guess."

SCP-035 meaningfully tilted its masked head at Berserker.

Berserker nodded and rubbed his chin with his gloved thumb.

"...So, it is natural to hypothesize that Zouken, at one point in his miserable, wretched life, had met 'something' that showed him what 'truth' lurked beyond the void."

"Wha..what...are you talking about...?", Kariya rasped out. His throat felt parched and dry. If only he had something to drink...

A white-gloved hand with a silver platter appeared before him. A cup of lemonade was sitting on the tray, held in an artistic cup carved out of red diamond...!?

"If I may be so rude to interrupt...I am terribly sorry to break up this most stimulating conversation, but it is my foolish belief that Master Kariya needs a refreshing drink, first and foremost."

Kariya's eyes widened as he found that, in the damp, dark cellar of the Matou manner, there stood a typical English butler right from an old James Bond movie, clad in an exquisite black tailcoat tailored explicitly for a loyal servant befitting of serving a noble household.

The handsome servant didn't move a single inch as he perfectly balanced the tray on top of his gloved fingertip, with a perfectly polite smile etched onto his kind, elderly face.

He seemed as if he was in his fifties, and with his silver-ash hair neatly slicked backward and his pristine English attire, he looked every part of an elderly gentleman, yet he was also filled with the vitality and vigor of a young man despite his much older appearance.

Berserker gasped and clasped his hands together like an admonished child.

"Ah! Dearie me! What would we do without you, SCP-662-H !"

Kariya's eyes shot right back at the butler that was standing patiently by his side. He was a...an anomaly of the Foundation too?

"Please address me as Walter if that pleases you, Master Kariya.", the butler said in his soft, soothing baritone voice. Kariya blinked, taken aback by how utterly hospitable he was. This level of courteousness would even put a five-star luxury hotel's manager to shame.

Kariya nodded his head numbly and tried to get up, only to find his muscles were cramped. Immediately, an arm was reached behind him as he was effortlessly lifted up into a comfortable sitting position.

"T-thanks...Walter."

"It is my pleasure. If you would kindly take a sip from this cup..."

Kariya gulped down the beverage the very second the cool sensation of the cup touched his lips. He instantly felt a refreshing breeze sweep through his tormented muscles and felt his body relax against his will.

"Wow...this is...very good...", Kariya murmured between gulps. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he shifted into a more natural position by himself. His body and head no longer ached.

With his head floating inside a comfy haze, Kariya remembered what he wanted to ask.

"What is SCP-2718-"

A gloved finger was gently put before his lips. The butler slowly shook his head with a sorrowful expression.

"My deepest apologies for intruding upon your inquiry once more, but it is my humble opinion that it would be in Master Kariya's best interests that he does not delve further into SCP-2718. After all, the human psyche is not built to withstand eldritch truths beyond death."

Kariya nodded. The serious no-nonsense glint in the butler's eyes was enough to alarm him, and he decided it would be best to not know too much. Looking into the abyss and all that.

Berserker, on the other hand, looked thoughtful as if he actually considered giving Kariya a thorough explanation about 'something that could potentially cause a devastating cognitohazard to humanity' as a viable option, but seemed to ultimately decide against sharing any information regarding the SCP.

Whether it was for his master's protection or some long-term plan, Kariya didn't know, though he certainly did hope his summoned servant had some morals left. For the sake of his sanity.

Berserker gestured toward the butler, with a series of hand signs that resembled an anorexic farmer strangling a very aggressive chicken, then said chicken breaking free from its pen and giving a capitalism-influenced speech about freedom and justice to its fellow chickens, which lead to the chicken populace throwing a revolution against Starlin, which then concluded in an all-out nuclear war that finally led to an apocalypse filled with mutated chicken ninjas in mother Russia.

"...Are you ok?", Kariya asked, half-afraid that his servant was truly mad, and half-concerned about the fact that he had somehow managed to decipher a part of the cryptic language.

The butler, on the other hand, simply nodded.

"One extra large cup of mocha mixed with a cappuccino at a 7:3 ratio with 204 pumps of cinnamon syrup, 52 pumps of hazelnut, 23 pumps of classic syrup, 69 pumps of sugar-free caramel syrup, 15 pumps of sugar-free vanilla, 40 pumps of chocolate vanilla, 38 pumps of OnlyFans Bathwater, 75 pumps of fattened SCP-4511 Grease, 88 pumps of Internet Troll Tears, and 101 pumps of Carbonated Cigarette Smoke, coming right up."

The soft whir of a machine rang in the large cellar, and only then did Kariya realize that somehow, a freaking coffee machine with no visible electric source was sitting in the cellar a few feet away from his operation table.

A crude metal sign was hammered onto the top of the machine which read: [SCP-294 The Coffee Machine: Basically can pump out any kind of liquid. (PS. Give him a good smack if he disobeys! And LOOK OUT FOR HOT DRAGON SNAIL JUICE!)].

The machine let out a sad spark before one of its lights flickered out of existence. Kariya felt sorry for the inanimate machine. He truly did.

He also pretended that he didn't see one of the nozzles of the coffee machine gush out what was presumably a heated batch of highly corrosive and toxic slime, that sizzled and bubbled like acid the moment it made contact with the concrete floor.

He inched away just in case though.

Like hell he was going to use that accursed Russian roulette coffee machine anytime soon. His luck already sucked balls. He didn't need to stack the odds against himself even more.

...What the fuck's a Dragon Snail Juice anyway!?

Meanwhile, the butler, having retrieved a cup of steaming hot liquid from the machine in the short time that passed, delivered it to an eager Berserker, who snatched the cup out of the butler's hands and started gulping it down as if it was the elixir of life.

He drank...and drank...and drank.

After what seemed like an entire minute, far longer than it should've taken to drink the amount held in the cup, Berserker finally put the cup down with a satiated sigh.

Holding up a small silver bell with a wooden handle in his fingers, he rang it lightly. The stylish butler bowed and shimmered out of existence like a mirage.

"662's sign to leave us be, he's still around. No worries.", Berserker said with a shrug when Kariya looked dismayed at the departure of the only sane person he had met so far.

Berserker smiled at the Plague doctor who was in his own little dreamworld brainstorming about new treatments for the 'pestilence', and the possessive mask who was literally drinking in Kariya's distress with a glass of vintage Japanese rice wine held in one hand.

The infuriating mask reminded Kariya of Tokiomi. A surge of hatred rose from the pits of his stomach, but he clamped it down. Now was not the time.

Berserker waved the...pizza box he took out from hell knows where.

"Anyone ready for never-ending Pizza? SCP-458, at your service!"

Kariya coughed and raised his hand. Berserker cocked his head to the side.

"Yes, my master?"

"About my body-"

Berserker nodded vigorously.

"Oh yes, pineapple pizza would be an absolute health hazard on your new wormy body, I must say! A hazard!"

"Uh, no, can we talk about the war-"

"Yes, the war against pineapple pizza lovers! Long, hard, and spicy, I must say!"

"Can we stop talking about-"

"Indeed! Most wise of you, my dearest master! On to the cheese I say! On to the cheese! Less talk, more chomping!"

"..."

The poor master burrowed his face into his hands. A tear threatened to burst out from the corner of his eyes.

Kariya hated his life.

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Somewhere, near Fuyuki:

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"Kyuu~? Kyu, kyuuuu!"

"Yeah, I know buddy. That guy...I didn't even know that Slender Man knockoff with a severe case of anthrophobia could chase me across freaking worlds! Where is the Foundation when I need them!?"

"Kyuu..."

"Thanks, bud. It means a lot. Not all of them understand how much it sucks to be chucked into different dimensions against your will, on a daily basis!"

A blonde teenager with...for the lack of better words, an adorable football-sized eyeball that was shaped and colored like a Teletubbies' head, was walking side by side on an isolated road.

Suddenly, the adorable eyeball jumped three feet up into the air with an alarming cry.

"KYUU!"

"What!? He is already here!? You've got to be friggin' kiddin' me...!"

A low-pitched wail resounded in the chilly night breeze. It traveled with the winds, howling as it changed its octave drastically with each passing second.

It was horrendous, it was tragic, and above all...it meant certain death. Dread, beyond your worst nightmares.

An unrelenting monster that shall not stop at anything and anyone, until all who witnessed its form, were long dead.

The sobbing was growing nearer at an alarming rate, and there was no time to waste. The young blond grabbed his adorable companion, tucked it under his arm like an American football, and started running to where his Foundation radar led.

"Dr. Clef...please buy more time...! I know that you are some Lovecraftian demon in human disguise...at least, Dr. Bright says so...so pretty please...?"

The teen boy prayed to the crazy researcher who hitched a ride on his dimension-hopping ability for, quote: 'Purely research purposes. I'm not secretly excited at the chance of killing new kinds of lifeforms! Honest!'.

...On second thought, he might as well have been praying to the Devil Himself. And as if to answer his prayers, a great explosion shook the roads as debris rained down on him from half a mile away.

The wailing only grew more intense.

"Kyuu!"

"Nope, not leaving ya buddy-boy. The crazy doc? Hell yes. You? Hell no."

Tightening his grip on his friend, the boy charged onward, and into the night.

[1 km until Fuyuki City]