Big Beard Jack was never the sharpest tool in the shed. When Luo Shu and the Possession Mask gave conflicting accounts, he was at a loss.
Luo Shu seized the opportunity. "Boss, remember how sneaky the mask was last time?"
Of course Jack remembered. The last containment breach had nearly driven him to shoot himself in the head.
Unforgettable.
That incident hadn't involved Chaos Insurgency—it was entirely the mask's doing.
It had exploited an SCP-148 coating breach caused by an earthquake, subtly influencing security personnel outside its containment.
Then, using the compromised guards, it manipulated SCP-101 (The Hungry Bag) into faking a disappearance—a classic diversion tactic.
If not for Luo Shu's quick thinking, the mask would've escaped.
In Site-19, if you excluded Luo Shu himself, no one was more deceitful than SCP-035.
Over the years, despite knowing wearing it meant death, countless people had succumbed to its influence.
So when Luo Shu claimed the mask was framing him, Jack bought it.
It never crossed his mind that Luo Shu could:
Enter SCP-035's containment unit undetected.
Survive its influence unscathed.
With this bias, Jack leaned toward Luo Shu's explanation.
"I closed the door to cut off its psychological warfare. We saw enough—no intruders inside."
Jack nodded. Prolonged exposure to SCP-035 was dangerous. Better to seal it fast.
A glance confirmed:
The glass container was intact.
The fluid was fresh, barely murky—replaced today.
Probably another exploit during maintenance, Jack thought.
Gaslighting the Mask
Encouraged, Luo Shu pressed his advantage, flipping the script:
"This was another one of its schemes! Once the guards wake up, we'll question them. And check the logs—see who accessed this floor."
To verify, Jack left Epsilon-11 ("Nine-Tailed Fox") to secure Sublevel-5 while he and Luo Shu headed to the Site Director's office.
Luo Shu had lost count of his visits here. He slouched into a chair like he owned the place.
Jack cut to the chase: "Pull up the feeds. I bet 035 pulled this stunt itself."
The Director sighed but complied. Keter-class breaches demanded attention.
The playback started from the routine glass replacement two weeks prior.
The footage came from:
A long-range hallway cam focused on the glass container.
Two angled cams covering the Unit's interior (avoiding direct mask views).
Luo Shu pretended to scrutinize the footage—his real goal was misdirection.
"Pause! Right here!" He jabbed at the screen.
Jack blinked. "What?"
The Director spotted it first. "The mask's expression changed."
Rewinding confirmed:
Earlier: The mask wore its default mournful look.
Now: A fleeting smirk.
Jack frowned. "It switches faces all the time. So what?"
Luo Shu explained: "Expressions reflect psychology. SCP-035 is highly intelligent—unless it's faking, this shift reveals its mental state."
The Director nodded. "Correct. That smirk means something pleased it."
"Exactly," Luo Shu said. "But the mics didn't pick up why."
(Truth was, he knew exactly why: That was when he'd stepped within 2 meters, triggering the mask's excitement.
It had hissed: "Who's there? I can't sense you—but I know you are!"
But the staff's soundproof headphones and the mics' noise filters missed it.)
Luo Shu shrugged. "Maybe the guards were compromised?"
Plausible deniability. He'd planted the seed without overplaying his hand.
The Director took the bait. "Run psych evaluations on all four personnel who handled 035 today."
Science over speculation.
The footage continued:
Staff exited with the old container.
An hour later: The two guards collapsed inexplicably.
The door opened by itself.
The Director's face darkened. He grabbed his phone:
"Check if SCP-126 is contained. Now."