SCP Containment Breach Wiki:Role Playing/The Riot/Part 1

Uuuggh, where am I?

Wilson awoke with a sharp stinging cold gripping and pressing up against right side of his face like a hand. He also possessed a splitting headache and to top off the physically crushing pain train, a horrid stomach ache. Wilson's barely surfacing subconscious deduced that the first pain was him laying against snow and after resting in this possible snow for a good five minutes to let his sore muscles build up some will and strength, slowly pushed himself up to his knees. His theory was correct. The glacial bite of winter originated from the sheet of snow that decorated the ground. Wait a second. Why the fuck was the ground covered in snow? He looked around, his heart beating dangerously hard, and noticed the monstrous trees that towered over him like an army of mountains. It all felt so horrifically surreal, like a fever dream. He recognized this forest. This was the forest that encircled the site. What the fuck was he doing outside the site? Wilson soon calmed down at the thought that he was at least 50 miles away from home, but his anxiety returned at the thought of calling that hellhole "home".

Suddenly, he vomited all over the ground, without his body even warning him of the brutal retch that nearly ruptured his throat. The chunky beige matter of last night's dinner painted the ground and Wilson breathed heavily as he spit out barf's disgusting aftertaste, drenched in sweat. Then he remembered last night's dinner was alcohol related. Wilson didn't want to relive this, and didn't bother trying to remember what happened last night. What matters now is that he's suffering an awful hangover and he needs to get back into the site ASAP. After hobbling through the forest, basically drunk off grogginess and pain alone, reached the back exit of the site, flinging himself into the thick door and entering the facility. Wandering through the maintenance sector of the site, Wilson drunkenly sauntered into the recreation sector, a series of halls with checkpoints being break-rooms, cafeterias, firing ranges, all of that jazz.

No longer mindlessly meandering, Wilson had a goal; a break-room. Upon this thought, he sarcastically excused and corrected himself with "common-place", as the facility had recently renamed all break-rooms as common-places for no discernible reason other than to be "too professional for you", as Wilson saw it with an annoyed overtone. He finally reached one and gained a more straight and sober stance, trying to act natural. A few guards and scientists lurked in the common-place, drinking coffee and conversing about who gives a flying fuck. Wilson walked past them with a hidden limp and poured some coffee himself into a ceramic mug, remembering someone telling him coffee was a good hangover cure. Out the corner of his eye laid a sight JUST interesting enough for Wilson to do a double-take while sipping on the admittedly tasty drink.

It was a woman, barely older than twenty, certainly cute and of Wilson's department. He knew this from the sky blue dress shirt she donned, shoulder marked with the security symbol Wilson's rugged armor shared. However this light and loose uniform (that Wilson was jealous of) was only utilized by low-ranking rookies, unlike the high ranking veterans such as himself, fucking locked in a tight and sweaty maze of an outfit. Her gentle appearance was topped with nice curly brown hair, but stopped by the annoyed look on her face as she rested her head on her arm, which was situated on a table in the common-place's dark corner. She gave the death glare to a portable microphone lying on the desk along side her head, all alone.

Wilson had an internal conflict on whether or not he should say something to her. He had never seen her beforehand, which was unsurprising as those poor sap security rookies were trapped in camera rooms most of their lives anyways. Wilson didn't want to come off as creepy, forceful, or overly-friendly. He was ESPECIALLY not that last one. But hey, Wilson thought. I'll probably never see her again anyways, so what if I look like a creep to her? He pulled a wooden chair up to the woman's table and sat in it, speaking.

"Uh...hello," he greeted so awkward it physically hurt him. "Who are you, ma'am?" --Fireworks888 (talk) 04:34, 3 May 2015 (UTC)

Once again Amanda had her day ruined by the Foundation giving out generic equipment that didn't fit everybody's needs, in this case, a portable microphone. What did they expect her to do with it? Being mute, there's not many ways you can communicate your ideas to a crowd! a microphone was fucking useless! Hopefully this wasn't some sort of cruel joke and instead was just the Foundation's protocols for handing out equipment not considering her disability. Just looking at the microphone frustrated her.

"Who are you, ma'am?" the voice of a man asked.

Amanda quickly raised her head and torso and left her slouching-over position swiftly, as to look to the source of the question just given to her; it had been a while since she had a "chat" with somebody other than Wyn.

The voice came from a sweaty, alcohol-smelling, but imponent-looking armored man, probably a higher-level security guard, sitting now in front of her. And he was asking questions, she looked around to see if Wyn was in the room, he could probably help to talk with this man.

After seeing no signs of Wyn anywhere, she looked awkwardly at the man and just as she was going to point at her mouth and nod as to point out that she couldn't speak, the man said:

"W-Well, my name is Wilson. Are you okay with not telling me yours? That's perfectly fine."

Eyes wide open and embarrassed, she tried to look for her notepad, where did she leave it? The guy was trying to say hi and she was not answering, he must be thinking of how bad her manners are; once again she attempted to point at her mouth as he again spoke out:

"O-Oh, you can't speak? Is that what you're...s-signaling at? Are you afraid or something?"

What.

What else could go worse in this day? She got equipment she cant use but GOTTA carry around, her notepad got lost, and now when some person wants to speak to her she can't answer back; AND that person supposes she's just too shy to speak? Fuck that. Amanda gave a death glare to Wilson and disregarded the "conversation" entirely, hopefully he'd soon realize what was going on and walk off.

http://i.imgur.com/9OzXZDO.jpg --Irontaco (talk) 05:49, 3 May 2015 (UTC)

God dammit.

God fucking dammit.

Wilson was engulfed in embarrassment. Every single atom of his skin was pricked with the sharp and unmatchable pain of humiliation. He was just trying to strike up a conversation with a lonely peer, and ended up accidentally offending a mute to the point in which she completely ignores him. This all went to shit so fast Wilson forgot 90 percent of it. This. Wilson thought. ''This right here is why I hate humanity. Try to be nice and you're turned away. ''After some deep thinking, Wilson decided he wasn't going down with a fight. He can tell the girl is already having a bad day, and knows he himself is in some fairly deep shit as well. He's not letting this awkward encounter worsen their days. He's going to fucking make this conversation work if it kills him.

"Okay, I can tell I offended you, and I'm sorry. How about this, to make up for it, I'll get you a coffee?"

The girl continued to spitefully ignore him, but Wilson was going to get her her damn coffee regardless of her response. He arose from his chair and watched as the coffee machine's old black tap poured a stream of liquified beans into a small frail foam cup he swiped from a cup dispenser. He delivered the fresh cup of joe to the girl, who, after waiting a few seconds, chugged the fine liquid without looking at Wilson even once. Wilson convinced himself she was somewhat satisfied, with the free coffee and all, but she certainly didn't externally show her contentment. Whatever, Wilson mused. ''I made an impact on a mute's day while recovering from a hangover, I'm complete for today. I'm just going to go pass out in my dorm and take the inaction penalty for today or something''. And with that thought, Wilson cleaned out his mug and advanced out of the common-place. --Fireworks888 (talk) 02:38, 4 May 2015 (UTC)

On any other day Lander would be complaining about the maze like set-up of the containment facilities, but at this point it didn't really bother him. He's been assigned to this site so many times that he knew the path to this particular wing's break room like the back of his hand. Their layouts were idiotic for sure but at least the design was consistent across each wing.

About a week ago he and his squad had been assigned to patrol duty at this particular site after several reports of guards being attacked by Class-Ds, more so then usual. The site command decided to start amping up security more by monitoring Ds more heavily as well as cracking down on subjects found to be communicating with each other through the walls. Command was paranoid that they were starting to get ready for a revolution of sorts to overthrow the guards, so they called in a few squads for assistance and Lander's just happened to be one of them.

After walking around for about 5 minutes Lander had located the break room. Upon entering it he spotted Wilson sitting over at a table in the far corner with a women. She appeared to be giving him an angry glare and ignoring Wilson as he abruptly got up from his seat to leave, heading toward the door Lander was at.

"Hey Wilson! How's it going?" After Lander had greeted Wilson he then took a moment to study his appearance. Despite adorning his uniform he still appeared to be slouched in his posture, well, more so then usual. His dazed expression seemed to signify that he probably didn't get a lot of sleep last night. "Hey uh, did you have an extra shift last night or something?"

Wilson rubbed his face into his glove with a disgusted sigh. "I, uh, don't remember last night, but I woke up in the forest and with a hangover."

Lander glared at him. "In a forest?"

"Yeah, the forest outside. I know man. I have no fucking clue how I got out there. I don't know if I should devote any energy into finding out either."

Lander smiled at his friend. Although it probably wasn't good for him to be having a hangover during work hours, it was nice to him not be in a 'serious' mood. Lander sometimes worried that this job was starting to affect Wilson's social skills outside of work, but moments like these always showed the slightest sign of hope.

"Just be glad that nobody else saw you, or command would be all over your ass." At this point Lander noted the girl staring at the two from the table behind Wilson. "So I happened to catch the end of your riveting conversation before, what were you guys talking about?"

Wilson chuckled at Lander wording it as "talking". "Well, we weren't exactly talking. Just my fucking luck the one person I choose to strike a conversation with is an oversensitive mute. I accidentally offended her trying to communicate, got her a coffee to cheer her up, but she's still being a bitch about it."

"Quiet and bitchy; sounds like your type." Wilson gave Lander an angry look. "Alright alright I'm just joking. I know you already have your eyes on Nicol-" Lander was interrupted by a swift punch delivered straight to his gut.

Lander flinched back in pain as Wilson walked past him.

"Man for a guard he sure packs a.....punch." Lander winced at the thought of that pun. He then looked over his shoulder to see that Wilson had already left the break room. "Well I still got 10 minutes before my break's done." Lander turned back to look at the women whom he had seen Wilson conversing with before.

His first thought was to walk up to her and find out what she had been talking to Wilson about, but as he thought more about it he wasn't really sure what he'd say at first. The women seemed quite annoyed already and he didn't want to maker her more agitated. Having suffering through a 5 hour shift last night the last thing he wanted to deal with today was an angry mute.

However, with Wilson probably heading off to bed now and Lander's commanding officer Gale busy with his shift, he concluded that he didn't have anything better to do right now and proceeded to walk towards the women at her table. -- CommanderMark (Talk) 04:51, 4 May 2015 (UTC)

Wilson continued his way down the halls of the recreation sector and soon transitioned into the office sector, where the researchers and other office-men were hard at work 24/7. The dormitory sector wasn't too far from here, but during this walk, Wilson ruminated on whether or not he should really sleep the day away. I mean, getting a penalty is much better than NOT getting a penalty, Wilson rationalized. Who knows, maybe an exciting test will take place. On that thought, Wilson remembered Doctor Kerensky. Maybe reporting to her would let him know about any upcoming tests. On his way to Kerensky's office, Wilson felt cold hair brush against his face as two security guards, just a little bit lower in rank then himself, sprinted past him.

He paid little mind to it but heard their radios saying something about a Class-D escape. Whatever. Wilson was a well-respected officer, if there was any really important security breach, he'd be informed of it. Upon seeing the two guards and their helmets, Wilson remembered how his tired and uninterested face was exposed. Fuck, Wilson brooded. ''I don't know where my helmet is. I'll just get a spare from the locker room, I guess.'' Wilson pretended that he didn't care about his helmet and balaclava, but was genuinely depressed about losing it. Sure, it was just one of the thousands of mass-produced headgear each and every security guard donned, but it was his headgear. He had lived through a breach, two lab explosions, and two solid years with it, and a pathetic night of drinking separated Wilson from a trusty piece of his uniform. He then mentally chastised himself for being so childish and getting connected to a worthless piece of expendable plastic and fabric.

After retrieving and donning a fresh new balaclava and riot helmet, Wilson stopped by "N. KERENSKY"'s office, slowly and gently opening the door to not disturb her.

"Hello?" he threw his voice around the halfly opened doorway. "Doctor Kerensky?" --Fireworks888 (talk) 06:17, 4 May 2015 (UTC)

Nicole Kerensky's day was going along like any other: she was sitting at her computer typing up or revising documents on the Foundation Database like she always did, day in and day out. For the majority of her job she was pretty much chained to her PC, tasked with typing up reports and containment protocols. There were some times when she would get to study new artifacts or entities, but those came with the risk of danger, and danger is not efficient. Any normal person would have found Nicole's job soul-rending, but Nicole was no normal person. During her last systems check she detected no soul.

Recently there were concerns about the state of security surrounding the D-Class cells, and Nicole was tasked with writing up new containment protocols for them. She was, after all, the best person for the job. Who better than a computer to lock up death-row inmates?

Nicole had just typed up the end of her latest contribution when she heard her door open and a voice creep into her office.

"Doctor Kerensky?"

"Enter." she said in her trademark stoic voice.

Nicole watched as Tyrone Wilson, one of many security staff stationed at the facility, lightly pushed her door forward and entered her predictably clinical office. "Real sorry I had to bother you, doctor, but I was just curious. Is there a scheduled test for this day?" the man said.

"Every scheduled test is to be memorized by on-site security staff, Wilson." Nicole read off his name, his voice previously stored in her personal database. She didn't even look up from her computer. "You would have known that if you weren't stumbling about last night in your drunken stupor." her words did not seem to match her voice, as she remained as emotionless as possible.

Wilson's face flashed red with embarrassment. It suddenly felt like Nicole was omniscient, knowledgeable of every single one of his darkest secrets. "W-Well, uh, I admit, I was busy with something else when the staff was informed of any upcoming tests. But so I don't have to go back to the conference room, can you please just tell me about any scheduled tests today?"

"The answer is no, Mr. Wilson. However, there is a conflict occurring in the Cell Blocks in Sector E. Perhaps you should go there." Nicole responded with.

"I heard about that incident, actually. I assumed if it was important enough I would've been called down there via radio. I suppose I can go check it out anyway. It was nice talking to you, doctor," Wilson complimented.

Nicole nodded without looking up from her computer. She did look up, however, when Wilson left her office quickly. --107.201.224.138 06:51, 4 May 2015 (UTC)

Upon leaving Nicole's office, Wilson loudly exhaled for no reason. It felt like he was holding his breathe that entire time being in the doctor's office. That conversation could've gone worse, Wilson mused, reviewing his encounter with Kerensky. There was a rough bump with that drunk thing, but otherwise it was fine. With that thought in his grasp, Wilson realized Nicole's brain was basically linked to almost all instances of recent security footage. She, like the SCP Foundation itself, was artificially omniscient.

Wilson's slouch suddenly and mindlessly straightened into a perfectly tall figure. He couldn't act up anymore, at least on the security cameras. He had no chances with a personified computer, but he still couldn't bare the thought of Nicole watching him act like a jackass. Wilson decided he was going to rid his mind of this topic and move onto the conflict thing. Wait, what was the conflict about again? Oh yeah, an escaped Class-D. He should've asked Nicole for more details about it, but diving into the situation blind would be admittedly exciting. Today was already a nice day, and Wilson was glad he didn't decide to sleep in his dorm to pass it up.

As Wilson approached the security checkpoint to Sector E, a familiar face lurked amongst the "crowd" of only a researcher and security guard. A man who stood out among the disgustingly clinical and soulless attire of a lab-coat or security jacket. A grey hoodie with green stripes, a mutely colored pair of sweat-shorts along with some sneakers. It wasn't just rare seeing an attire this casual, it's never happened. Ever. Then Wilson recognized that subjective clothing. It was Wyn, tightly holding some weird box. Wilson barely knew this young gentleman but he recalled him from a past awkward encounter where Wyn, a fairly eccentric technician, was caught by Wilson at a bad time. Wilson didn't feel like greeting this man and tried to ignore him. Wilson's inner monologues assured that Wyn wouldn't recognize him. All guards were practically identical, were they n-

"Hello, officer."

SHIT.

''How the hell did he notice me? Was it the....it was my security tag. This is one perceptive son of a bitch.''

"Hey, Wyn," Wilson greeted as he waltz past the technician. That wasn't so bad, just a four word greeting. Now ont-

"Still chasing girls, officer?"

Wilson paused dead in his tracks at that one sentence. This day isn't assisting his anxiety problem. How the hell does this random guy know that he was hitting on Nicole? Is he omniscient too? Maybe he didn't read Wilson's security tag, maybe Wyn is 343 in disguise.

"Wyn," Wilson said, pulling the technician aside to the wall. "How the fuck do you know about Nicole?"

"Oh? I was referencing the kind of girls that, according to you, look like girls but aren't in actuality," Wyn said with a tone so loudly passive-aggressive.

"Oh..." Wilson said, easing up. In their only other encounter with one another, Wilson had accidentally mistaken Wyn as a female. You couldn't blame him, however. Wyn had a small frame, frail figure, long hair. The guy shouldn't be so sassy about it. There's no way he looks so feminine without doing it on purpose.

"Anyways, I don't care for your woman crushes if that bothers you. Now if you excuse me, I need to head to the common-place."

"Oh," Wilson repeated in a mumble. "Move along."

And with that, Wyn continued his walk and turned the corner, never to be seen again by Wilson. ''Man, I've been awake for only like a half hour and ''almost everyone of my encounters have been so brief and uncomfortable. Whatever. Man, I've been saying that a lot today. Anyways, whatever, let's just focus on the Class-D escape thing,'' Wilson said to himself as he entered the dimly lit Sector E. --Fireworks888 (talk) 08:25, 4 May 2015 (UTC)

It took a long time for Gale to realise that he was conscious, and even then, he thought that perhaps he simply wasn't opening his eyes to begin with. But as he prodded at his eyes and pinched his skin, he knew he was awake. Pulling himself up, he looked about in the utter darkness until he found the shining of a tinny light. Groping towards the source, he found it to be a red light just above a switch. He knew what would happen next.

*Click*

With that, Gale was slowly blinded as the many lights of what appeared to be a vault flickered on. Luckily, they began to dim as they were old, and this was simply not a place that anybody visited anymore. The room was affectionately named "The Vault" due to its contents: Papers. Nothing but papers, folders, documents... It was the exact opposite of gold except to Gale himself who had spent the night rummaging uselessly. Nothing but the usual repetitive reports. He tried to remember hat he was looking for, but didn't bother. He trudged back up the stares and as he began to see others, found that no one stared. He stopped in a hallway to look at himself.

He had left the MTF uniform on, even the mask was left on... self-esteem was not his strong card, and even at his most exhausted state, he still cared for the scars that marred his face. It annoyed him so, yet he couldn't bring himself to take it off. Once arriving to his dorm, he only then realised he had left a mess of papers in the vault... then again, no one went in there. He finally found the courage to take the mask off, dropping it on his bed next to a pile of books he was reading, and headed off to the common place, wondering what had occurred in his absence. --TheCab (talk) 02:47, 5 May 2015 (UTC)

Amanda laughed - well - more like she made the motions of laughing with no sound being emitted from her. It was rather awkward.

It had been a while since Wilson had left the room and now Lander and Amanda were in an entertaining little chitchat about how she was always given the wrong equipment, about Wilson being a bit of an ass, and about a bunch of little things. It was with luck that Lander had a small notepad with him.

Amanda quickly wrote with astonishing speed on the notepad and showed it to Lander:

"I know it's your notepad, but can I keep it? I lost mine. :("

"Sure, I won't really use it, anyway." Lander said, Amanda smiled and wrote a bit more:

"Thanks, I should really get going now, nice knowing you, Lander."

Amanda stood up from the table and picked up the portable microphone. She knew she had to go talk with the person who was apparently responsible for organizing which equipment goes to who. Apparently that person was named Nicole. Hopefully this would not happen again. She waved to Lander, which he returned with a wave of his own.

Just as she was going to walk out she encountered Wyn coming through the door; they both knew each other quite well, Amanda being possibly the only woman who Wyn didn't get completely uncomfortable around. Amanda thought of chatting with him for a while but she needed to get directions and get done with what she needed to do. Amanda got in Wyn's way and started signing:

{"Where is "Nicole Kerensky"?"}

"Ummm, just go to the offices - it shouldn't be too hard to find her name on one of the doors." Wyn said. This seemed like common sense to him by now, but Amanda had only been working for a few months and spent most of her time locked up in a small room at night. It was uncommon to see her during the day. Amanda nodded and walked out quickly, patting Wyn on the back as she did so.

...

After walking around the office like a lost child and finally finding the door, Amanda entered the room quietly without knocking. It had always been hard for her to introduce herself to people who were not aware of her disability. She tip-toed without making the lightest noise to what looked like a woman with a nearly perfect posture typing at impressive speed on a keyboard. As she got closer it became noticeable that this woman looked rather peculiar, sporting some kind of cybernetic eye and robotic arm. Why were people in the Foundation so strange sometimes?

Amanda poked Nicole lightly on the shoulder, startling her. The woman quickly regained her composure. Nicole swiftly turned her head to Amanda, who gulped and fixed her hair a bit. Her stare was intimidating and she was STILL writing on the keyboard at the same speed! Hopefully this woman wouldn't criticize her for her attire being missing. Her tie was no-where to be found and her shirt was not tucked into her pants. She was hardly formal.

"Yes?" Nicole said. Amanda left the portable microphone on her desk and took some time to write on her notepad. She then gave it to her.

Nicole took some time to read the notepad, occasionally glancing at Amanda.

"My name is Amanda Maxwell. I was informed that you are the one responsible for managing the equipment given to personnel. I would like to ask you why you keep assigning me things that require me to speak, which I clearly cannot do. This has happened several times since I became a member of the Foundation Security Staff, and the fact that they require me to carry this equipment, which I am unable to use, is humiliating."

http://i.imgur.com/WIAzIgk.jpg

--Irontaco (talk) 05:58, 5 May 2015 (UTC)

Finally.

The walk across the facility seemed longer than usual, and Wilson knew it wasn't the Wyn encounter that made it drag so severely. Wilson's legs were already aching and he hadn't even participated in this ongoing conflict yet. It didn't matter. Wilson's journey had come to an end, the end being an elevator marked "↑ SECTOR C, ↓ SECTOR E". Upon entering the lift and punching a few buttons to tell it to descend, Wilson leaned up against the wall and let his mind focus on the elevator's hum as it sunk down the massive shaft. Then, with this moment of no movement, realized how hungry he was. All he had was a few measly sips of coffee, and he's literally descending into the bowels of a possibly destructive riot on an empty stomach that just recovered from a liquor flood. Maybe it didn't matter. Wilson had trudged through MUCH worse situations than a mysterious riot suffering MUCH worse hindrances than a growling stomach. A few seconds after this worry, the elevator had come to an abrupt halt and had its double-doors swung open. He was in the facility's dark innards; The Class-D Sector. Funnily strange Sector E was the complex where Class-D's were imprisoned and not Sector D. In fact, the sector's halls were so dark Wilson assumed a power-outage caused the riot, and switched on his utility flashlight to diminish the black aura of the corridors, albeit only through a slim beam of illuminati-

"Officer Wilson?"

JESUS.

After recovering from a minor heart-attack, Wilson swung his petrified body around to yet another security guard, notably sweaty and breathless but trying to hide this disorganized appearance from his commanding officer. The guard's chest donned an ID card signed "R. White", a peer he had barely known but had a few encounters with.

"Oh god, White, you scared the shit out me," Wilson sighed.

"Sorry, sir," White chuckled.

"What's going on down here? I heard about some kind of Class-D riot stirring up in Sector E and came to check it out. How severe is it?"

"Not too bad, j-just three or four prisoners escaped."

"What block?"

"A."

"Oh yeah, wasn't that block undergoing some security advancements?"

"Yeah."

"Then how the hell did the riot even happen?"

"Well, y'see-"

"GET HIM TO AN INFIRMARY IMMEDIATELY!" a booming voice exploded about the halls. Wilson and White instinctively hugged the walls as they heard a family of heavy footsteps trampling down the black abyss they called the corridor ahead of them. A group of four security guards, two carrying a stretcher with a bloodied officer laying atop it and the other two circling the stretcher as they embraced their glocks, sprinted down the hall and right past Wilson, the familiar air of hurried peers brushing up against him. When the stretcher had passed, Wilson stuck his hand out and stopped one of the guards from following his squad by the shoulder.

"Officer, what the hell happened?" Wilson asked, his monotone voice beginning to evolve into concern.

"Hawkins was shanked in the stomach by an escaped D!" the panicked guard, obviously a rookie, exclaimed.

"Give me a sitrep on the situation, officer."

"All I know is that somehow four Ds escaped with some shanks and killed Jason and Austin and nearly killed Hawkins! Last time I saw them they were heading to the security block! Squad G went after them but we haven't heard since!"

"Fuck," Wilson sighed. He vocally regarded it as what sounded like he simply lost his wallet, but internally he realized how quickly this seemingly minor conflict is going to shit. Already two personnel were dead and, pessimistically but truthfully, another is probably about to die of blood-loss.

"We can't let the Ds get to the security room, they'll unlock every cell and basically auto-destroy this entire facility. You, White, follow me!" he commanded both of the lingering guards as the stretcher was swallowed by distant darkness.

"I know a short cut to the security room," Wilson said as he began to sprint down the sector, finally unholstering his glock with his comrades in hot pursuit of him. As Wilson ran, he fiddled with his shoulder radio and set it to the MTF channel.

"Any MTF that can hear me, please report to Sector E immediately," Wilson said loudly but trying to keep his cool. "A potentially catastrophic riot is occurring and is in need of as much security as possible." --Fireworks888 (talk) 00:05, 6 May 2015 (UTC)

"...which I am unable to use, is humiliating." Nicole read from the small notepad handed to her from the woman who was trespassing within her office. She nearly sounded an alarm when the woman tapped her shoulder, but her quick reflexes stopped her swiftly.

Nicole ceased her typing and held the woman next to her under a cold stare. "It is of the order from the Site-Director that I am to distribute Security-Grade equipment to the appropriate stations. I have received no directive to consider the emotional responses of the Security Staff. Furthermore, your reason for complaint is utterly illogical."

"They require me to carry this useless equipment twenty-four-seven, and I receive no equipment to make up for my disability. Isn't this something to consider?" The woman, Amanda Maxwell, wrote out on her notepad. Nicole took a quick glance over the written words of the mute woman before reasserting her stare over the her.

"I have no say in the regulations concerning the acquisition and usage of Foundation equipment. If it is of such concern to you that you receive the appropriate attire for your..."disability"...then you can issue a request to Foundation suppliers. However, I cannot in anyway confirm that your request will be heeded and can do nothing to further support it. Simply put, if our suppliers refuse to equip you, then you will have to...deal with it...as they say." Nicole responded with while also handing Amanda a slip of paper. It was a simple form that could be forwarded to Foundation officials in the event of dissatisfaction with work environments. Nicole almost turned back, but stopped when she noticed a final note from Amanda.

"It seems I'm not the only one without my own voice :^)"

After Nicole read the note, she turned back to her desk and watched with one cybernetic eye as Amanda left her office, notepad in one hand. In the deep half-mechanical mass that was her brain, Nicole made a little note of her own.

Amanda Maxwell - Possible passive-aggressive. --107.201.224.138 02:19, 6 May 2015 (UTC)

Amanda, now furious, walked the way back to the breakroom. What a shitty day! What was up with that woman in the office? She was like some sort of robot! Pherpaps working so hard for so long in the Foundation turned her into that, a soulless machine in the system? Her answers were so neutral and her stare so unexpressive it gave Amanda chills from just thinking about it, almost fear when she was standing up in front of her. She definitely did not want to stay too long around her.

Lost in her thoughts, she crashed violently agaisnt a tall, shaggy looking man in a office outfit, who was carrying a pile of papers which height nearly reached his head. Both fell to the ground with a loud thud as a tornado of flying documents made a mess out of the hallway.

"Fuck! Nononoooo! They're gonna fucking kill me!" the man complained. Amanda sighed silently and looked up to his shirt, the name Steven was printed on it, she remembered seeing this guy around, making her think the clumsy one might have been -him- instead of her.

Swiftly, Amanda got up and helped Steven get on his feet, she was so sorry! Steven looked at Amanda as she attempted to express this however she could by picking up whatever documents where near her reach ASAP.

"It's alright, ok, ok, just let me take care of it. It's not like i WASN'T going to fuck up eventually. Whe-...Where were you going so fast though?" Steven said, Amanda looked at him with some relief, and with her right hand she indicated that she could not speak, then she pointed to the sign indicating the direction of the nearest common-place.

"Oooh, okay, nice to meet you Amanda." Steven said as he looked at the name printed on Amanda's shirt, he made a mental note that she was not capable of speaking, and hiding his frustration, he shook Amanda's hand and gave her a slight push so she left. "Don't worry, just go."

Amanda looked back at the pile of papers she had created and then noticed a camera on the top corner of the room. Thoughts of Nicole arrived back again, from what she saw in her rather-big workstation, she watched over some higher security areas plus some rooms that she was capable of seeing in her own workstation, including this one!

"I swear i'm going to get fucking kicked out of this place." She thought; It was always weird to hear her own internal monologue, from what she knew, that voice was unique and she never heard it anywhere else.

As she turned back once again and kept walking to the common-place, she thought of the conflict she just had with Nicole, man, how fucking dumb did she have to be to leave a passive-aggresive note to a woman completely capable of kicking her out of this job with just a few hundred keystrokes? Nicole could have plenty of reasons now for doing so, she thought. After all, Amanda was not in her workstation watching over the cameras, her attire wasn't formal at all, she was not wearing the equipment given by the Foundation, AND she now knocked a guy carrying what could be VERY important papers. The situation wasn't getting any better and she felt ridiculous for feeling stressed while other higher-level employees must deal with shit bigger than this all the time.

Fuck it.

Before she knew it, she was entering the break room, she looked around and noticed Wyn getting some coffee filters, he looked back. --Irontaco (talk) 00:45, 7 May 2015 (UTC)

Upon nearing the common-place, he was stopped what appeared to be an office worker gathering papers from the floor. He'd only glanced up to see someone walking away to the common-room, he couldn't tell at first. He bent down to help and, without thinking, swiped all the papers into a stack, to the man's astonishment; Steven was his name according to a tilted tag. He tilted his head, studying him, than took the papers, mumbling a half-hearted 'thank you' and leaving the soldier alone. Somehow, he felt that Steven had meant to ask him a question, You're a soldier, not a paper sifter, you move through papers like you've been working

"You have to start somewhere"''

Gale blinked. As Steven ran off, trying to order what papers he could, he asked himself, had he ever been an office worker? He told himself no, but he couldn't be sure, and it wasn't even his time spent in the vault...

He shook his head and walked on to the common, trying to ignore these strange bouts of anxiety. The room itself was massive, filled to the brim with workers milling about with trays of food and coffee. Too many people, he thought, and even with the enticing smell of coffee and familiar faces, he made up his mind to spend the morning outside. That way people would at the very least think that he had done a shift, even if it was covered.

Just then, he spotted two familiar faces, that of Lander, and Amanda the mute. Lander? Good friend and brother in arms. Amanda? Nope, just nope. And He had yet and would keep his streak of simply not speaking again to a voiceless being and suffering every second of being studied so carefully.

Coffee it is, he thought reasonably. He filled a cup and sat at the bench where Lander was. He didn't bother with a hello, but smiled, Lander himself seemed to be considering something, and Gale left him to it, rather enjoying his presence and sipping at the coffee. --TheCab (talk) 06:25, 7 May 2015 (UTC)

Wilson's heart punched his rib-cage three times per second as he rushed through the hallways, the heavy stomps of his winter boots synching up with each of his heart beats. He cut through half the sector by slamming his shoulder into the door of Block C, making a quick shortcut to the security block to save time. Finally, in the darkness-enclosed distance, Wilson could faintly see a metal door boldly labelled "SECURITY BLOCK" and, with the last measly splinters of his stamina, charged into it, making it nearly fly off its damn hinges. The grey, sewer-like, and grungy architecture of the Class-D Blocks shifted into the white, blue-striped concrete walls of the Security block upon walking through the ajar door. White and the rookie still lingered a few meters deep into the Class-D block, physically incapable of keeping up with Wilson. They'd catch up eventually, Wilson told himself. Now in the dark corridors of Security, Wilson gave his poor body a few seconds of rest by reducing his mad dash to a fast walk around the corn-

SHIT. I am getting jumpscared way too much for one day. A blur of orange clawed itself around the corner and sliced Wilson across the chest with something sharp, barely severing the tough threads of his security jacket and leaving a narrow portal between his bare torso and the outside world. Wilson pointed his barrel of his gun at the orange figure and fired, but by the time his finger slammed down on the trigger his wrist was already snatched and squeezed by a meaty hand, causing him to miss. He hoped the deafening bang would've mildly crippled his enemy, but his dreams were crushed when another burly limb rammed into his temple with such brutal force simply hearing the crack of Wilson's cheekbone would've made you cringe, sending him flying to the ground and on his face. The punch didn't even hurt that much, it was the indescribable pain of getting his nose nearly broken from landing right on his face that nearly made him lose the scuffle. Fortunately Wilson was barely capable of fighting through the pain and getting up so quickly his opponent forgot what just happened almost immediately. Now Wilson got a good look of who he was fighting.

A white man, clad in the dull orange of a Class-D jumpsuit, a bit above-average on everything. Height, weight, build, and strength. Just enough muscle to give Wilson a good fight. He was armed with a shank, the one that nearly sliced Wilson's ribcage open, and the guard soon returned the favor by psyching the man, tricking him by readying to punch him in the stomach only to deliver a swift blow to the throat, incapacitating him for a few seconds. In this time, Wilson grabbed the D by the back of his head and repeatedly slammed it against the wall until a splat of blood was imbedded onto the wall, before dropping the man's slump body to the ground. Right as the thump of his heavy body rang through the halls, a breathless pair of security guards flung through the entrance doorway.

"You were late," Wilson cracked, catching his breathe along with his peers. "Let's get to the security room before the D's deactivate the door locks."

"I...." White wheezed out as he nearly fell over, imbalanced by having so little stamina it felt like he was in debt. "For god's sake, how are you not passed out yet?"

"I'm a determined man, now come on!"

After resuming his sprint through Sector E, his men narrowly keeping up and a footstep away from passing out, Wilson had finally come upon the security room's wide open door. Three guards with their throats splattered against the ground served as the room's doormat. Oh fuck... With an explosive burst of adrenaline violently swarming his bloodstream, Wilson tore through the doorway. A fairly large room, coated in black and exclusively illuminated by the blue glow of the computer monitors as they endlessly stalked the facility through security cameras and hung over desks covered with control pads. At the very end of the room were there were two Class-D's typing away at the control pads, somehow breaking into the security system before being given the option to Auto-Unlock all doors in Sector E.

Without hesitation Wilson capped a trio of bullets into the darkness and prayed for the best. The all-too familiar sound of a shrapnel burying into a man's chest signalized Wilson's mission to stop all hell from breaking lose was a success. But the smoking corpse of one of the D's collapsed onto the Auto-Unlock button.

Well. Shit. --Fireworks888 (talk) 07:48, 10 May 2015 (UTC)

As Amanda left the room she waved to Lander, to which he waved back. They had spent about 10 minutes having a conversation regarding how she was being tasked with handing out equipment which was impossible to do with her disability, as well discussing various other topics. It was a pretty interesting conversation, albeit it was mostly on-sided since she couldn't speak, but considering that his status in terms of female friends were her and Nicole, comparison standards were at an all-time low.

After Amanda had left, Lander looked over to his watch to see that his ten minutes were up and he had to return to his post. So he proceeded to get up and walk out of the common place.

--

Surprisingly, Lander's task now was to guard the entrance to Sector E rather then simply patrol around the area. His officer had told him that the guards were apparently needed for a Class-D fight that was brewing inside the sector, so there was a shortage of troops. It sounded to be one of the more serious fights to have broken out since Lander's arrival, which worried him a bit. He wasn't even sure what the protocol was for an escaped D. Do you shoot or do you try arresting them then shoot?

Regardless, Lander relished the fact he didn't need to walk around the site Ina repeated pattern and could instead simply stay in one spot and lean against the wall. The 19 hour shifts were beginning to take its role on his body but at this point he didn't care. He was just happy to be given a moment to relax.

"At this point not even Wilson running around the corner screaming could move me."

"Any MTF that can hear me, please report to Sector E immediately. A potentially catastrophic riot is occurring and is in need of as much security as possible."

"...Wilson screaming over the radio however, would and will." Lander abruptly bolted up-straight as the radio crackled with the message. It took a moment for Lander to process Wilson's message, but he quickly regained his composure and began preparing to head inside Sector E.

Lander verified that his P90 and TMP were loaded before walking into the sector. Visually the hallways were quiet but sounds of people screaming and distant gun fire could be heard through the walls. It seemed to progress without any signs of becoming quiet, only furthering Lander's anxiety as he was forced to walk closer to the sounds.

He stopped in his track when he came across what appeared to be three dead bodies inside a four-way intersection. One of them was a guard in a sitting position slouched over from a knife in their chest. The second was a dead guard lying face down. The third was a Class-D being crushed by the second guard.

At the sight of this Lander slowed down his walking pace to almost a halt as he cautiously walked around the area, knowing how had to try and reach the control room of the sector to try and send off a site-wide alert.

He walked past the gory sight before him only to hear gasping, to which he quickly spun around and aimed his P90 at the ground.

"P-please....help..me~" Whispered the previously thought to be dead D on the ground. "T-t-they..attacked..me..need help...."

Anybody's first instinct would be to kill the D on-sight, no questions asked, however Lander didn't. Even though every nerve in his body told him to shoot, he did the exact opposite of that and slowly started walking up to the orange clad man. He would then regret this action immediately as two more Class-Ds from seemingly out of nowhere jumped him from either side of the hallway.

The P90 had been knocked out of Lander's hands as he was flung to the ground by the first D, holding Lander down. The second D quickly retried the knife from the dead guard and ran up to try and impale Lander in the gut. The ballistic best took most of the impact, but he could still feel pain rushing to this chest as the knife collided.

Instinctively, Lander quickly pulled his TMP out and started firing in the Ds general direction. The barrage was successful in hitting both Ds as they backed off, allowing Lander to pull his upper body up and finish them off.

Lander slowly pulled himself up to on his feet, reaching down to grab his P90 in the progress.

"T-t-thank you..." Lander heard the D, still covered by the guard's corpse, say.

"I-" He was cut off by amulet impaling his brain, killing him instantly. If Lander wasn't wearing his helmet, the D would've seen the most neutral expression possible. Lander notes after killing him, that the guard's body on top of him had been vigorously shifted, as if the D was trying to get up.

''It was a set-up. The plan was for all three of them to jump me. I could've prevented it. You know, just shot the D, making the other two angry. They would've come up and tried the plan anyway only to fail cause my guard would've been up. But no, I just HAD to try and give him a chance...''

Lander didn't let the though eat at him for now, as he knew there were more important tasks to take care of. He began limping away from the scene, with his left arm pressed up against his chest, where the knife was still impaled. -- CommanderMark (Talk) 03:41, 12 May 2015 (UTC)

Wilson's blood froze. His skin became a shade of light blue and an immortal ringing plagued his head, loudly bouncing off the insides of his skull. The facility, in all, contained approximately 3,540 Class-D's. Cold and calculating serial killers, muscular and brutish mass murderers that could overpower a squad of unarmed security guards with their barbaric strength alone, and highly dangerous rapists. Every single one of those three thousand prisoners fell into at least one of those descriptions. And all of them were just released, thanks to Wilson's incompetence. Wilson had endured, survived, and witnessed an entire family of traumatizing catastrophes, but he could instantly tell this was going to be the worst. Not only are thousands of personnel about to be slaughtered, not only are thousands of dangerous sociopaths about to invade the Earth, not only is he in the middle of it all...but he caused it. Those thousands of upcoming deaths are on his hands. Wilson heard the footsteps of his two men behind him, and out of the corner of his eye saw them look on in shock at the image of a dead Class-D, his slump body bleeding into the cracks of a keyboard. They instantly realized what had happened.

"Holy shit..." White softly said, mouth agape as much as his peers'.

Wilson didn't know what to do. He was a...he was a security guard. He endured months of training, all dedicated to moments exactly like this. He did know what to do. And he was going to do it. This wasn't like a breach, a disaster he was barely capable of comprehending. It was a riot. The biggest riot in human history, Wilson's nearly dominating pessimistic side pointed out. He let out a breathe of air tainted with crippling anxiety and turned around to his men.

"Officer," Wilson said, softly and aloof to the other nameless guard. "What is your name?"

"P-Parker, sir," the man stuttered out, snapping to attention out his trance of shock.

"White, Parker, I want you two to report to the office sector and round up any and every researcher you see before escorting them to the safety shelter. Take any other security guards you encounter as well for additional help, and inform them of our current situation. Get out of this sector as quickly as possible via the elevator."

"B-But sir!" Parker gainsaid. "What about y-?"

"I'm going to stay behind and fight off the escapees with the MTFs and other sentries. I caused this. I'm not capable of stopping it but I'm going to try. If the conflict gets too heated, I'll follow you to the office sector. Now, get the fuck to the elevator as quickly as you can.

---

Wilson roamed the pitch black halls of Sector E, hearing the wild screams of escaped Class-D's echo about the facility. Not every single one of them were basically animals with one instinct; to kill. Only a third of them were. But every one of them were highly dangerous in some way. After a short-walk, Wilson came across a little camp in a hall intersection. A band of security officers, leaning against the wall or checking how many bullets lurked in their guns, and a pair treating an injured one laying on the floor. On a stretcher.

"Hey, you!" one of the officers pointed out Wilson. "Is the riot contained?"

Wilson sighed at this poor, poor man's ignorance. He donned his emotionless and clinical identity once more. "No. The escapees, while terminated, were successful in releasing every Class-D housed here."

"Oh god...does that me-"

"Yes. I recommend getting yourself and any one you can to the safety shelter."

"God.....we'll move out eventually. We need to rest now."

"I understand. I plan on staying and fighting the Class-D's myself."

"Are you insane? You'll never defeat their numbers, I wouldn't be surprised if there's a million of them!"

"I don't plan on defeating them, just holding them off long enough for everyone to reach the shelters."

"You're not gonna survive very long by yourself."

"Who said I was fighting them by myself?" --Fireworks888 (talk) 03:01, 14 May 2015 (UTC)

Lander then spotted Wilson. "Hey, Wilson!"

"Lander? Oh my god, I can't believe I found you down here." Wilson's tone immediately developed into hurried and firm. "Listen! I...I fucked up. I couldn't get to the security room fast enough. Every single Class-D cell was unlocked and we're going to get swarmed with murderous death row inmates any second now!"

Lander's eyes went wide underneath his helmet. He then almost incoherently asked "All of them?" Wilson nodded. "What?!? How did they even unlock them? Is the thing on a fucking hair trigger!"

"Well, first you'd have to input a password before activating the hair trigger but basically, yeah. But that doesn't matter! I ordered a pair of guards to get to the surface and herd everyone into a safety shelter while the MTFs and I try to buy them some time. Where do you plan on heading?"

"Uh, my plan was to head here and prevent the Ds from fucking up the system, but it looks like that's already done." Lander then looked around the room. "Any way we can send off a site-wide alert from here?"

"I know there's an alarm somewhere near storage. But that's literally a mile away from here, by the time we activate it the D's will already be at recreation." Wilson bit down on his thumb as he thought for a moment. "Wait...I know someone who COULD alert the site. Do you have your phone on you?"

Lander pulled out his radio. "Magic radio good enough for you? It's connected to the site's intranet, so it should be able to call phones locally."

Wilson snatched the radio out of Lander's hand. "Thanks." He then pecked a few numbers into the radio's dial pad and waited, before the receiver picked the other end up. "Hello? Nicole?"

Of course he calls Nicole. Lander gave Wilson a smug look, although he couldn't see it because of his visor. -- CommanderMark (Talk) 04:24, 17 May 2015 (UTC)

Nicole would have been bored if she was capable of such emotion. There was, for the most part, nothing for her to do, even in the Foundation's vast database. She could handle inactivity for some time, but eventually she had to do something productive or...well, she didn't actually know what would happen seeing as she has hardly ever ran out of things to do. The light that invigorated the office with illumination flickered slightly in a rather peculiar way, seeing as they were not supposed to do that. The strange occurrence made Nicole flinch, but she hardly paid it any mind.

She was about to get up and...'socialize' with her fellow researchers when her she heard her Foundation-issued cell-phone, or as it was formally called by her, her radio, emit a little ring.

"Yes?" she said as she answered the call.

"Hello? Nicole?" the caller, the very obvious Tyrone Wilson, asked from the other end.

"Tyrone Wilson once again. Why have you called me?" she asked in her dry tone.

"Okay, listen! The escaped Class-Ds were successful in hacking into the auto-unlock system and activating it. In less than 2 minutes Sector E will be nothing but an orange flood, and in less than 5 minutes, same goes for every other sector. We're too far from an alarm, so I was hoping you'd somehow alert the site of this riot before it's too late!"

Nicole stayed silent for several seconds as she processed the new information from Wilson. "Will do." she said simply before hanging up.

In terms of Nicole's abilities, she could not actually raise an alarm by herself. She could only send an alert to the nearest security checkpoint, where they could then raise the site-wide alarm. With that in mind, she lost herself in the wireless network engulfing the entire facility, mentally searching for the nearest checkpoint. It took less than a second for her to find it, where she then sent an alert to one of the computers. With her task complete, she sat back in her chair and waited.

Under about a minute the lights in her office shut down and were replaced with red, rotating flood-lights. With them came a blaring alarm that could be heard across the facility, the sound leaking from the very walls of the vast corridors that connected each sector. With the alarm raised and a site-wide evacuation set underway, Nicole reached under her desk and pulled out a small 9 millimeter pistol. Her aim definitely needed work, but it was her only self-defense.

Her next task for escape would be to find the best exit, which would of course be the one furthest away from the Class-D's. To find this exit, she mentally searched through the security footage still being transmitted throughout the facility, another task that took very little effort or time. However, while sifting through the many active cameras, she found something rather peculiar.

From one camera Nicole could see the office of one Amanda Maxwell, the woman she had encountered before. The low-level guard was standing outside the office, her body completely rigid. Poor-quality audio was transmitted from the footage, and Nicole could hear someone yelling. She watched as Amanda attempted to retreat back into her office, only to be grabbed by the arm and pulled back by an assaulting Class-D. The guard looked to be startled and she delivered a swift blow with her other elbow. Apparently Amanda was quite strong, as she was released and allowed to dart straight into her office and lock the door behind her.

A group of Class-Ds began to pile up at the door to Amanda's office, cutting off her ability to escape at all. Nicole watched all of this as she left her own office.

Commencing rescue protocol... --107.201.224.138 22:08, 17 May 2015 (UTC)

[SOME TIME BEFORE]

Wyn walked up to Amanda, who looked like she was about to punch a hole on the fucking wall, and pointed to the chair nearby. They both sat down and Wyn, with a compassive smile, said:

"What's the situation, captain? DEFCON 2?"

{"I insulted Nicole, i'm probably going to get fired or-"} Amanda stopped signing as tears started dropping from her face and her hand motions stopped having any meaning, she stood quiet without making a single whine. It was very frustrating to express these things for her; and now she looked like a whiny child. Great. What was that bitch, Nicole, capable of doing? Could she demote her to a D-Class if she wanted? The mere thought of it gave her chills.

Wyn looked at this strange act, it was weird to see Amanda cry. No sobs, no moans, just her looking agitated, occasionally breathing sharply and tears coming out of her eyes. Not a single sound.

"Alright, just...Write it down on your notepad, alright? Don't worry." Wyn said, agitated. Amanda took out her notepad and just as she was about to write the speakers set up in the room gave out an announcement:

"Any MTF that can hear me, please report to Sector E immediately. A potentially catastrophic riot is occurring and is in need of as much security as possible."

Amanda looked for a few seconds at the speaker mounted on the ceiling, a riot? How could there be a riot? As far as she knew they kept the Ds pretty strictly controlled. Did she need to go help? The person asked for MTFs, but, they need as much security as possible, right? Didn't she find a MTF helmet the previous day in the bathroom? Maybe this belonged to one of them?

Fuck; alright. In her office pherpaps there would be additional instructions in the Security Department IRC, it shouldn't be too dangerous, after all, her office was located just next to the exit of the D-Class section. She'll check the computer, get the helmet, the whistle, and her gun, then she'll be back to the upper areas to wait for the MTF unit to grab his helmet. Piece of cake. At least she'd be a little more useful by taking the risk.

She wiped her face with her arm and stood up without saying goodbye to Wyn; she needed to be quick this time. A riot could potentially get huge in a short span of time. She walked a considerable time to reach the lift leading from sector d to e. Odd, wasn't there a guard usually on-duty just near the lift? Regardless, she entered the lift and descended down into Sector E.

Man, it surely was dark. No signs of any guards patrolling around, the thought made Amanda uncomfortable, but her office was just a few rooms into the sector.

Just before making it to the office, she stopped dead in her tracks about 2 meters from the metal door. She was able to hear sounds coming from past the hallway, from this distance, just mumbling. She waited, pherpaps they were MTF units?

She went pale and cold as she saw about four D-classes coming from around the corner.

"GET THAT BITCH! FAST!" One of them directed the others as the other three started sprinting at Amanda, two of them carrying blunt weapons. Her heart accelerated and pumped blood so fast she could fucking hear it. Why were they so close to the lift?

She dashed for the office door, putting her keycard in front of the reader. The door opened swiftly and she attempted to enter, only to be stopped by the fastest D-Class grabbing her leftarm and pulling her back.

"You fuckers thought we wouldn't know we'll all get killed! You're all fucking dead!" The D-Class exclamed, about to hit Amanda with a stolen baton.

Amanda's reflexes kicked in and with unexpected force she gave a tremendous elbow strike with her right arm, stunning the D-Class and allowing her to enter the office. She closed the door using the keypad, with twitchy movements, just in-time before the other D-Classes could enter.

What the hell was that? Now all four D-Classes were banging on the door. Thankfully it was quite sturdy and could probably hold them off. She leaned agaisn't it to rest, man, she never heard her heart pound agaisnt her chest so strongly.

She looked at her desk and saw the rather degraded MTF helmet she left earlier in the day, she walked up to it and examined it, small engraving done with a sharp object was in the side, reading "T.W." Opening the drawer in one of the desks she gathered a whistle, a 9mm pistol, and checked the monitors in her workspace. In the multiple windows showing camera footage she could see three D-Classes waiting for her outside the door, then she saw the fourth one bringing a heavy wooden rectangle. Where the hell did he even get that from?

She desperately attempted to connect to the Foundation internal IRC, with no avail, as the network connection was down. What a shitty day.

http://i.imgur.com/xTqtiwJ.jpg

--186.35.213.66 00:45, 18 May 2015 (UTC)

After Nicole hung up, Wilson listened to the dull call-end drone that buzzed out of Lander's radio. Just sinking into a mindless trance, apprehensively trying to avoid the future. He quickly snapped out of it and handed Lander his radio back.

"What'd she say?" Lander questioned as he pocketed his radio.

"Will do. That's all."

"Oh. So...now what?"

"We're staying down here and keeping the escapees from reaching Sector D."

"Why sector D?" Lander asked as he was glancing at the security monitors, most of which were showing nothing but orange-clad men running through the halls.

"Sector D are the escapees' only exit. Their bridge between here and the rest of the site. Now, let's go. Maybe we'll find some other sen-"

Wilson's sentence was cut short by distant riled screaming. Pleads for help, echoing gun-fire, screeches of blood-lust. A goldmine of chaos.

"SHIT, the D's must've found a squad of guards, let's go!" Wilson hurriedly barked as he unholstered his glock and set it to "Fully-Automatic". With Lander, tightly grasping the barrel of his P90, following, Wilson raced around the corner to see a small security atrium, illustrating nothing but utter mayhem. A war between animals and their keepers. The ground was sprawled with the broken corpses of security guards, but a few bullet-dotted Class-D carcasses rested next to them. The few living security guards were being overran with prisoners, having their arms locked behind their back before being beaten to death, helpless as a kitten in a tree. The others were either cowering on the ground, getting bludgeoned with their own batons, or laying flat on their faces with their hands willingly behind their heads, praying the D's would be merciful enough to spare them. They weren't. Wanting to put a stop to this massacre ASAP, Wilson raised up his glock but had his wrist swatted down by Lander.

"DON'T! You'll shoot the guards!"

Lander was right. It was just a mixture of orange and black, if Wilson were to fire he'd be slaughtering both sides. Wilson took a deep breath and dived into the brawl. Glock in one hand, baton in the other, Wilson cocked his right arm back before letting the base of his baton fly into the back of a Class-D's skull, who was bashing another guard's face in with his bare hands. To finish the dazed D off, Wilson delivered three more brutal blows to his face, assuring at least a crippling concussion. Meanwhile Lander gunned down the many prisoners that tried to charge him without batting an eye, sometimes getting involved into a bloody fistfight like Wilson. Wilson knew just how chaotic and horribly shambolic this riot was solely from the fact that the D's didn't immediately capitulate upon hearing and seeing the barrage of bullets Lander fired into their crowd. They just kept going. Beating. Charging. Murdering. Some D's tried to tackle Wilson, only to get a bullet severe their limbic system. One D almost defeated Wilson by sneaking up on and strangling him with a stolen baton, but the guard retaliated by gouging the man's eye out before stomping on his skull until he could hear it shatter.

By the end of the horrific scuffle, around twenty Class-D bodies decorated the concrete floor. Looked like the Jonestown massacre with an orange filter. About eight security guard corpses eternally rested along with their fallen enemies, and five security guards were still breathing, some beaten so nightmarishly a few had nothing but eye-sockets leaking blood. It was one of the few sight that genuinely disturbed Wilson, that sickened him to the core, and while his face-mask concealed it Wilson could tell Lander felt the same. Wilson approached one of the conscious security guards, who was lying on the ground next to a dead peer.

"Officer," Wilson softly spoke to the dying man. "Can you walk?" The guard did nothing but wheeze, making it clear his windpipe was crushed and it was a miracle he was still alive. Wilson truly wanted to carry the men to an infirmary but he had no time, and honestly, they were just lost causes. By the time they reached the hospital they'd be dead. Then Wilson realized this disaster only happened in a single room. In the next hour it'd be on a city-sized scale.

"Lander, I just had an idea."

The MTF, recovering from a few punches and cuts, snapped to attention. "Huh? Oh. Shoot."

"We need to deactivate the elevator."

"What?! Are you crazy? That's our only escape!"

"Same goes for the D's. If we stop the elevator, they wouldn't be able to leave Sector E. Better to lock them in this hellish bowel than let them ascend to the surface, right?"

"Ugh, fine. But how will we get out once the riot is over?"

"Assuming we're alive by then, we'll just wing it. I arrived to Sec E via a small lift in the first place, we could use that. Now let's get to the security block before the D's get to the elevator!" --Fireworks888 (talk) 05:00, 18 May 2015 (UTC)

The elevator sputtered as Nicole rode it down to the next sector, where Amanda was apparently held up by a group of Class-Ds. A minor setback, but necessary. The doors to the elevator creaked open as the machine reached the next floor. Nicole stepped out and quickly noticed a clanking sound, like metal banging against solid steel - rather distinct when put aside the silence. She rounded the next corner and saw several Class-Ds huddled around a door, the entrance to Amanda's office. They were all trying to break into the room in their own way, which was apparently the source of the racket. None of them seemed to notice Nicole, giving her the perfect opportunity to strike.

She leveled her pistol to the head of one of the Class-Ds, swiftly putting a bullet in his brain and subsequently taking out another.

"What the fuck!?" one of them yelled before he was put down by another shot fired.

The last Class-D, who looked like quite the brute, grabbed one of the weapons used by another and darted straight after Nicole. Rather than run, the researcher simply sidestepped out of the way and leveled the pistol at the back of his head. He barely had time to recover before she pulled the trigger, grey matter spraying over the bleached-white wall of the corridor while managing to completely miss Nicole.

With the disposables...well...disposed of, Nicole approached the door to Amanda's office and knocked on it three times.

"Ms. Maxwell? This is Nicole Kerensky. I have successfully dispatched the Class-Ds and it is completely saf-"

A clanging sound rang throughout the halls as Nicole was walloped upside the head from behind, cutting her off and leaving a horrible pain sprawling across her forehead as she stumbled away from the door. Defensive protocol reacted in turn, her entire body rotating to meet her assailant: a fifth Class-D who was apparently hiding in the shadows. Her vision distorted randomly, an internal component damaged from the attack.

The Class-D swooped in for another strike with a piece of solid rebar, but he was stopped when his weapon was grabbed out of mid-air from behind. Nicole watched as he turned around, only for him to receive a strike to the cranium, making him cry out in pain and lash out at his opponent.

Nicole tried to call out to her would-be-savior, her voice warping and falling apart as her voice synthesizers apparently shut down. She heard struggling grunts as her vision distorted, the disquieting sounds devolving into ringing and static as her legs locked up and her arms fell to her sides, her entire body falling under the veil of unconsciousness. --107.201.224.138 07:04, 20 May 2015 (UTC)

Amanda could do nothing but wait. The sounds of the D-Classes banging on the metal door seemed to get louder and louder as time passed, once the door was down, she would need to defend herself and hope to at least be able to crawl away once it all ended. Her hands were shaking and her breathing unsteady.

BLAM!

The loud sound of a gunshot followed by two loud thumps replaced the loud clanks of the door.

BLAM!

Another gunshot, followed by the sound of another body falling to the floor, slight moans of pain could be heard behind the door.

BLAM!

One final gunshot, and one final body dropping to the floor. Did someone come to her rescue?

Amanda quickly went up to her workstation and looked through the nearby cameras. Visible was Nicole Kerensky, the woman who had been insulted by her not too long ago. Amanda smiled for a short while, before her smile faded away from seeing a fifth D-Class in the camera footage; he snuck up behind Nicole, and, with a heavy, thick piece of rebar he struck Nicole on top of her head. Strangely enough, instead of a crunch, the sound of a clank ringed through the door.

It was time to act. Amanda took a deep breath, put the gun in her pocket and opened the door just in time to grab the thick piece of rebar from the D-Class's hands, who was about to once again hit Nicole. The moment she grabbed the rebar she felt her heart speed up more and more, her field of vision diminished and she felt lightheaded.

Fear taking over her, she brang down the piece of rebar on the D's head with all her strenght, producing a sickening crunch and screams of pain from the man. He stumbled for a few steps but recovered quickly, now preparing to attack. Amanda wasn't able to react and got charged onto the ground by the heavy D-Class, now furious. He took the piece of rebar and, while sitting on top of her, used it to attempt to crush Amanda's windpipe, who struggled incesantly to avoid asphyxiating.

It was hopeless to try and overcome the D-Class' strenght, it was just too much. She attempted to pull, punch and scratch at his face, only causing him to let go of the rebar for a moment and with the right hand grab Amanda's hair and bash her head agaisn't the ground. Her vision shook and blurred but utilizing this small time she grabbed her gun from her pocket with the right hand and aimed for the D's head, managing to shoot him but missing the head, instead blowing off his ear an a small part of his skull. He fell to the ground screaming in pain and bleeding profusely.

"You fucking whore! You're dead! You're fucking dead!" he screamed, as he grabbed his face and kicked at the ground from the pain.

Amanda got up, limping and stumbling, and, with the rebar, bashed the D-Class' head with all the strenght she could, over and over again. The gun didn't even matter anymore, she kept smashing his head until it became nothing but a disfigured face.

She dropped the rebar, hands shaking, heart still going super fast, and looked at Nicole, who was strangely enough, unconcious, but still standing in a hunched over pose. She dragged her to her office and sat her down agaisn't a wall, then closed the door.

http://i.imgur.com/oPtfLHm.jpg --186.35.213.66 09:30, 20 May 2015 (UTC)

"So," Wilson began with a breathe of air. "I'm sorry if this is an uncomfortable or personal question but...how do you do it? How are you...capable of gunning down so many regular humans without even thinking about it? I mean I know they're bad people, and if a group of D's pissed me off I'd kill them all without second thought but...how do you bring yourself to aiming a gun at a crowd of people and firing?"

"Uh..." Lander took a moment to think about the question. He didn't really consider that he had just gunned down a whole group of men, without even batting an eye. One would normally use the excuse 'You get used to it.', but Lander couldn't recall a single instance of him killing a bunch of men in cold blood. Well except for... "When I heading to the security tower I got jumped by a bunch of D's because I hesitated, almost getting myself killed. I'm not fucking up again."

"Oh," Wilson sighed, not being able to think of a proper response. "Okay."

"How do you think the others are doing?" Lander asked, trying to lighten the mood. More for himself then for Wilson though.

"No idea. Our upper-level security staff is pretty competent. They probably got a good bunch of people rounded up into the shelters by now. But it's up to us to hinder the things they're hiding from."

"Hm..it doesn't bother you not knowing?"

"Not knowing how the rest of the site is holding up?"

"No, I mean Nicole's whereabouts." Wilson could detect the smugness in Lander's tone from a mile away.

Wilson was inflamed with internal fury but could tell Lander was just being a jackass and didn't want to break his nose over it. "I...I'm sure she's fine. She's a very capable and proficient woman."

"You knew her before she was....computerized right?"

"Yeah. Barely though. I saw her every now and again in the office, she seemed kinda cute. After the...infection, it took me several days to realize that weird cyborg was that shy office-worker."

"Quite the tale of romance you got."

"Quite the jaw you got. It'd be a shame if someone shattered it."

"Then who will translate your stuttering on your wedding day?"

Wilson spitefully remained silent. He was so close to punching Lander in the crotch but knew it wouldn't solve anything.

"Come on," Lander insisted. "Unless she developed super hearing she's not gonna hear us."

"I suppose. Hey, let's not give my love life all of the attention. Who do you have the hots for?"

"Uh, what other girls do we even know?"

Wilson thought for a second and realized how dominant the male population was in the Foundation. Women were a rare treasure. "Uh....m-my cousin. Ooh, and that mute in the common-place."

"You mean Amanda?"

"That's her name? How do you know it?"

"I was talking to her at the break room after you left."

"You mean common-place?"

"Break room."

"Hmph. Well, what did you two...talk about?"

"Uh, just stuff; you, the fact that the Foundation was given her equipment she couldn't handle cause she's mute."

"Oh that's why she was so agitated. I, uh, gotta be honest, I thought she was on her period."

Lander remained dead silent. Wilson could tell he offended his friend with his vulgar comments towards this Amanda person but didn't really care. Lander was long overdue for some karma for teasing Wilson so much anyways. However the awkward silence still uncomfortably engulfed Wilson, and deep down he prayed something, anything would happen to break the ice. After about a minute of walking, Wilson's prayers were answered. The constant ambiance of a group of rabid Class-D's grew louder than usual, and the guard could tell he and Lander were about to build up their kill counts. As the two readied their weapons, Wilson recalled the conversation they just had about capability. Wilson is about murder people, over five from the sound of it. Normal humans with a bad past. If they hadn't discussed it it'd be probable Wilson would pay no mind to it, but he had just had an enormous moment of clarity. His job, his life, is solely based around murdering people. Terminating disobedient staff, escorting Class-D's to their atrociously brutal deaths by nature's abortions, and if they survive, round them up just to kill them anyways. He was a fucking Nazi, contributing to the holocaust. But the D's are evil, right? The Nazis genuinely viewed the Jews evil as well.

Whatever. In the very core of a three-thousand-man-riot is not the best time to have such a gigantic moment of clarity. He'll think about it after he executes a squad of people. Wilson's heart skipped a beat the moment he saw orange in the distance, even though he was anticipating it. If I survive this riot, I am going to have a seething hatred towards orange afterwards, Wilson cracked to himself. Once about seven D's swarmed the base of the hallway Wilson and Lander were skimming through, the guard stopped walking and let Lander take the first shots. Wilson watched as the P90 bullets shred through the D's like paper. Just a tiny spec of metal, ripping through the clothes, tissue, and bones of several fully grown men before they flew to the ground, their puddles of blood seeping into each other. Lander had gunned down three before they got too close for guns, and resorted to his knife and fists. Wilson was analyzing the situation piece by piece, and suddenly realized he was simply watching his friend brawl with four burly psychopaths. The guard unholstered his glock before, after a few seconds of hesitation, firing at the D's.

Wilson nearly had a fucking heart attack. He was expecting a soft, singular bullet to soar out his barrel and into the brain of one of Lander's opponents but was woken up with a barrage of rapidly firing bullets with recoil worse than a chain gun's. He forgot he set it to fully-automatic mode, an- --Fireworks888 (talk) 04:03, 21 May 2015 (UTC)

Amanda didn't realize her ears were ringing until she started to calm down. A strong, dull ache on the back of her head came slowly along with it, she reached and touched that area to check if there was any blood, which luckily there was not. Her hands were still shaky but the effect of the sudden surge of adrenaline inside her body were starting to fade. It was safe for now, at least.

Did she just murder a man? Well, a psychotic, murderous, angry and huge man but it pretty much was the first time she had injured someone. The thought caused her to nearly puke from the lightheadedness; she nearly got killed!

"Alright, alright, calm down. Just forget." She thought, it didn't really have any point to go over these thoughts again in this situation; she was stuck in the middle of a massive D-Class riot and it would be VERY hard for her to get out of it. How many bullets did she have? 16? There's were at least three thousand men going around the facility now, it was lucky for her to have encountered only 4 D-Classes.

Sigh, she probably was going to be waiting for a while. She adjusted her hair, shook the dirt off her clothes, and rested on her chair. While looking at camera footage she could occasionally see groups of D-Classes running through rooms, hallways full of bodies of both Security Personnel and D-Classes, and suddenly, she saw something of interest. Two MTF units walking through a hallway, ready to fire at a group of D-Classes engaged in a massive brawl agaisn't themselves and more guards. One of them opened fire and then dived into the bloodshed with a knife, while the other pointed his gun and was swiftly knocked out cold, or even killed, when a D-Class snuck up on him with a baton. Huh.

Amanda stood up and looked at the woman she had sat down agaisn't a wall. Weird; she risked her life and dove into this mess to save her, neat!

"What the heck is she, though?" Amanda thought to herself, her attitude was completely neutral and the hit she received in the now-bleeding head made a loud metal clank instead of a disgusting crack. Was she some sort of super-new robot? Amanda tried to find out. She sat down on the floor, in front of Nicole, legs crossed, and started checking her robotic body parts.

First she looked at her arm, completely hydraulic, but slowly fading into skin and muscles the further back, up to the shoulder. Then she looked at her eye, it was showing all these weird pixels now, similar to static; that wasn't happening before. Then she started poking her in random places, such as the stomach, where she was able to feel a few hard spots, next to soft ones. Hmmm...

She didn't seem COMPLETELY robotic, well, maybe her skin wasn't like, real? Just some sort of artificial replica? Amanda opened Nicole's right eye, and poked it. Squishy.

http://i.imgur.com/gI4Vaun.jpg

--186.35.215.39 00:53, 23 May 2015 (UTC)

Nicole's thoughts were in a haze. She could hardly think at all. All the clarity she previously had was gone, replaced with a horrible pain in the back of her head. She even thought she could feel a light pressure against her ey- Nicole screamed as she realized her eyes were being poked, her arms reaching for whatever was behind her. Her hands were greeted by the cold, stone walls. There was a woman in front of her, a familiar woman. Who was she? ...AMANDA! That was her name! She remembered her! She...remembered Amanda being annoying. She didn't like Amanda.

Wait...like? She couldn't...like things. What was going on?

"W-whaat's happeniiing?" Nicole timidly asked Amanda. Rather than the stoic voice she normally expressed, her voice was currently thick with intonation and...emotion. It also seemed to be stretching and distorting for some reason.

For a moment, Amanda simply looked confused. Nicole watched as she wiped her hand on her clothing and grabbed a notepad. "Got KO'd. Check the back of your head. Are you feeling fine?" she wrote with a pen.

"M-my head?! T-thaat's bad...riiight?" Nicole responded, a glint of tears forming in her right eye. She rubbed the back of her head, feeling a patch of blood and a slight indent where she was apparently struck. Amanda simply shrugged whilst grabbing a towel and some water to help with the injury. She dabbed the towel with water and reached to rub Nicole's head with it, but the woman shied away. Rather than take the towel, Nicole just continued questioning Amanda. "How are wee gonnaa get out of heere?"

Amanda didn't give an answer. Rather, she just sat back in her rolling chair, pointing to the security footage. Nicole looked fearfully at the small screen, watching as murderous Class-Ds ran about the halls of the site. She simply whimpered at the thought of being stuck in a place like this with people like them. Tears began to form in her eyes as she cradled her head in her arms. --107.201.224.138 03:58, 23 May 2015 (UTC)

Lander continued to spray down the group of Ds with a barrage of bullets, up until three managed to rush him. Instinctively, Lander blocked the first strike from the D with the side of his firearm, giving him enough time to step back and get into a fighting stance.

Although MTFs were trained to be at peek performance, Lander’s experience in hand-to-hand combat was minimal. His first few attempt at throwing punches all missed, allowing the Ds to overpower him and send him straight into a wall. Two of the, attempted to choke Lander while a third managed to grab a brick off the ground and started hitting his helmet.

The expendables didn’t seem to be aware that the collars were specifically designed to be choke-proof, allowing Lander to reach down for his combat knife and prepare to strike one of the Ds in the neck. However as he was about to enact his attack a barrage of bullets suddenly came from across the room, hitting all four of them.

The three disposables collectively dropped Lander as he felt a sharp pain in his left arm. Unfortunately only one of the Ds was killed, as the two others got up and bolted towards their attacker. Lander looked ahead to see Wilson panicking and staring at his gun like he didn’t know it could shoot. This gave one of the escapees the chance to get behind him and bash his head with the brick. The force of the impact was enough to send Wilson to the ground, allowing the D to strike several more blows to his head.

Lander’s saw these events over the course a split second, and quickly got up to rush over to Wilson’s aid. He pulled out his combat knife and struck the neck of the D attacking Wilson. The impact wasn’t strong enough to cut through the spinal column, but it was enough to make the expendable collapse in pain, putting him temporarily out of commission.

Lander turned to face the second disposable only for him to rush Lander and try to grab the knife out of his hand. As he was trying to pry the blade an idea came to Lander's mind. He let go of the knife, causing the D to stumble back for a second. By the time he had rebalanced himself and got ready to attack he was met with a round from Lander’s TMP straight to the head. Lander the turned towards the final D, finishing him off.

With the area cleared, Lander rushed to Wilson’s side. The guard had been knocked unconscious and appeared to have a wound in the back of his head. What worried Lander the most was the blood itself seeping from the gash. Every single D he shot sputtered red, streaming blood. The blood coming out of Wilson’s head was dark, and thicker.

For the moment Lander stood there panicking. He had no idea how to handle such a serious wound, nor how to stabilize it. With no plan in mind, Lander carefully picked up Wilson, putting his arm over Lander’s neck. He felt that the best course of action would be to take the guard to the sector's medical station, as they were near the office portion of it.

Going over to grab his P90, Lander realized that he had run out of ammo for the weapon. "Oh for fuck’s sake we’re screwed." With that, Lander pulled out his TMP and proceeded down the hall with Wilson’s body.

If it wasn’t Wilson dying in his arms at this very moment that worried Lander, it was the fact that a swarm of Ds could jump them at any moment. The sounds of distant footsteps only furthered the tension Lander was feeling. Thankfully, they were in the office sector already, meaning the medical station couldn’t be too far anyway. Unless of course they were interrupted.

So of course they were interrupted at the next turn, by the site of five dead Ds. Lander slowed his pace as he carefully dragged Wilson’s body over the courses. Taking the time to glance at the bodies, he noted that all except one of the expendables appeared to have been killed by a gunshot, while the fifth one looked to have been completely mutilated with a baton. "Ouch."

As Lander was inspecting the corpses, he suddenly heard a voice. Lander perked his head up, looking around to try and find the source of the sound. It sounded faint, but at the same time didn’t sound far way.

Looking around, his vision was drawn to the entrance of an office. As he walked closer to it the voices grew louder, meaning that someone was in that office. He looked over to the label on the wall which read Amanda Maxwell

"Wait what?! Amanda's office is in this sector?!" He probably should have figured that out sooner, considering she was in this sector's break room, but he wouldn't have guessed he'd wind up at her office.

The voices continued to talk inside the room as Lander proceeded to knock on the door. -- CommanderMark (Talk) 17:28, 24 May 2015 (UTC)

(I'm temp RPing as Amanda because Taco can't post ATM)

It was funny, really. A few minutes ago, Nicole was as deathly emotionless and apathetic as always. Now she's crying up a storm in Amanda's office. Amanda found this irony so amusing she was building up a laugh. Well, not a laugh, but her lungs still uncontrollably tightened as she donned a huge grin on her face, but the amusement soon faded when a sharp pain spawned in her ribs. She was still sore from the brutal fight she just barely won. While reflecting on that fight that nearly traumatized the poor girl for life, Amanda also recalled the brawl she witnessed over the camera a few moments ago. "Man," Amanda said to herself. "It took so much time and effort for me to just kill that one Class-D, while those pair of soldiers plowed through an army without breaking a sweat. I never really thought about how skilled and effective MTFs were. Amanda's musing was interrupted by a stream of loud knocks at her door. It nearly made her heart jump through her throat. "Oh god, who could that be? It has to be a Class-D," she panicked to herself as her grip on her glock handle tightened. Sitting in her office chair, Amanda stayed petrified as she looked at Nicole with a serious glare. She then shifted her eyes to the cameras that hung over her and saw, via some security footage, that there were two dark figures outside her office, one of them violently banging on her door. The static obscured any details. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" she mentally whimpered. "Okay...enough hiding. It's time to man up!" She slowly rose out of her chair as the knocking continued. She gestured to Nicole to get away from the door with her thumb, and the quivering cyborg was barely lucid enough to crawl out of the way. Taking a deep breathe, Amanda gripped the door handle and swung it open. She nearly had a fucking heart attack as the figure stumbled into the room, and she was so close to pulling the trigger. "WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!" the figure yelled. "IT'S JUST ME! LANDER!" He wasn't lying, thank god. It was an MTF, donned head to toe in riot armor, with another armored man, deathly slump, being held up by Lander. --Fireworks888 (talk) 05:37, 25 May 2015 (UTC)

Lander waited for a response from the other side of the door, but all that came through was silence. He paused before knocking again, simultaneously looking over at Wilson's slumped body. He rechecked to make sure the guard's arm was secured around his neck.

As Lander was adjusting himself the door in front slid open. At first he was relieved to see Amanda's face, then panicked when she was also nervously aiming a glock at his face.

"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! IT'S JUST ME! LANDER!" Lander panicked and tried to side-step out of the way. Thankfully though, Amanda didn't pull the trigger and quickly realized he wasn't an escapee.

"You could have just called out who was t-" Lander realized his mistake and panicked. "U-uh oh right, the er...thing." Amanda glared at him, unimpressed. "Yeah-yeah sorry..forgot." Lander paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. He glanced around the room, spotting Nicole's slumped body staring at him.

"Ds?” Lander questioned, noting the wound on her head. Amanda nodded. "Yeah, me and Wilson got overwhelmed by the Ds also." Lander held back a snort.

Amanda grabbed her notepad and started jotting down something before raising her arm to show Lander. ""

"Hit in the head with a brick. Hard."

Nicole perked up. “Is Wilson’s skull fractured?”

“Uh, he’s bleeding so I guess..?”

“That can cause cerebral hemorrhage. And that’s….bad.”

Lander raised an eyebrow. “Bad?”

“Well, hemorrhaging will make a person die if untreated, and a person dying is…bad.” Nicole herself seemed confused at her own choice of words.

“Uh, Amanda what happened to her?” Lander asked again. His trademark at this point might as well be asking questions.

Amanda wrote on her notepad.

"”

“Great. We got two people with bad head injuries in a sector full of inmates. What the hell do we do now?”

Nicole took a moment to check her logs. She began scanning through her files for anything that met the requirements of a “solution”.

“SCP-427.” Nicole blurted out. Lander and Amanda turned towards her.

“427?”

“427, the locket.”

“Locket?”

“It heals people who wear it. So they don’t die. And that’s…good.” Nicole’s mechanical parts squeaked as they pooled information.

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the medical bay.”

“Medical bay? Why is is there?”

“Increase in guard injuries. Class-D fights. Used to heal them.”

“Great! Then let’s go get it. Hopeful-“ The familiar two beeps of the PA system suddenly came from the loud speaker, halting Lander's statement.

“'''Warning! Unknown gas is being filtered through the air vents. Recommendation: Please go to your nearest supply depot and secure yourself a gas mask.'''.”

“''Unknown gas? What would…oh shit!''” “They’re filling the sector with chlorine gas!”

Amanda shook Lander’s shoulder, signalling him to elaborate.

“If a sector ever gets overrun with an insurgency, which in this case counts, they fill the air vents with chlorine gas if the site can’t stop them from reaching other sectors.” Lander mentally slapped himself for forgetting that one detail about handling breaches. “We gotta get out of here, quick!”

Amanda quickly wrote down something. “”

“I-I don’t know!” Lander nervously paced back and forth trying to come up with a solution. Nicole was doing the same, half her brain trying to figure out a solution, other half panicking at the use of chlorine.

Amanda was waving her arms, pointing at the door. Lander looked at her. “Alright alright we’ll try and get to the elevator, but the medical’s station not far from here. We go there first, get the locket, then run like hell.” Amanda nodded. She looked over to Nicole and jotted down another note.

“” Nicole slowly tried standing on her legs. They worked, but her upper body movement was somewhat impaired.

“Alright, the medical station is about two hallway turns from here…” Lander pondered. “''Oh man I hope we have enough time. Wilson’s dying. Nicole’s hurt. And man, I can’t even remember the last time I used the-………………….oh.''” Lander looked up at the two women.

“Uh, I have an idea to prolong the effects of the chlorine gas.” They looked at Lander, waiting for him to continue. He walked to them and gave them Wilson’s body. “Take him for a second, I’ll be right back.” Amanda pointed at the door frantically. “I know I know, but we need this.” With that Lander walked to the other side of the desk and ducked under.

--

Amanda nervously stood at the door, waiting for Lander to finish getting whatever he needed. He was ducked behind the desk for about two minutes now, shuffling around. She stared at the door, waiting for his signal to go. Her back was turned to him, so she didn’t notice him when he went beside her and put something in her face.

“Cover your mouths with this. I know it smells awful but it’ll combat the gas.” He gave Amanda and Nicole a bunch of wet tissues.

“What substance is this?” Nicole questioned. Lander nervously decided to answer her.

“It’s..urine.” -- CommanderMark (Talk) 16:55, 25 May 2015 (UTC)

Before Nicole had awoken with her injury, the world had never seemed so...big. Even with how small the room she was confined to was, it all seemed so overbearing and...scary? She wasn't even sure if she understood the words she had thought of to describe it. Everything before her infection had been a haze for so long now that it felt like she had always been the emotionless husk she was. The conflicting emotions that she should not have been feeling and the intensity of her situation made everything absolutely terrifying and intimidating for Nicole, or rather, the small, timid little girl that lived in the darkest recesses of the metallic thing in her head that could apparently be described as a brain. She didn't even know if the already worrying effects of her injury were permanent or not, something that helped to swell the fear she was already feeling.

It didn't helped that Mr. Wilson was apparently injured and that the site was going to be flooded with chlorine gas. That was definitely a factor.

Now Lander was handing Nicole a towel of...urine, and she was being told to cover her nose with it? Why in the world would he...

Nicole gasped and her eyes went wide upon her realization.

"That's genius! You're a genius Mr. Lander!" she said with the brightest grin she had probably ever given in her entire life, a factor that was heightened by the 4 straight years without emotion. "The ammonia in urine combats the effects of chlorine gas! That's good!" her smile was practically stretched across her face and she didn't even fully understand why.

Lander gave Nicole a confused stare at her outburst. He gave a slight nod of confirmation, but otherwise said nothing. Nicole looked over to Amanda, who was apparently staring at her. The mute woman glanced at the towel of urine again, but gave the same disgusted scowl.

"Well, uh, come on. We've got to get Wilson to the infirmary and get those gas masks." Lander said.

Both of the women following him gave a nod of confirmation, both holding onto the urine soaked rags. The infirmary wouldn't be too far, but the journey gave Nicole enough time to remark on her companions.

Amanda just looked to be trying to remove the smell of urine from her face after having the rag incessantly shoved in front of her. Her reactions confused Nicole, however. Why was she so bothered by Lander's attempt at helping them?

Lander, on the other hand, had a stressed look upon his face. It was to be expected, given their situation. Nicole was dreading an encounter with those...barbaric Class-Ds, and she feared for the life of Wilson, whom she had recalled as being...nice. Lander had every right to be stressed.

It took some time, and some careful navigation, but after rounding one more corner, they ended up within the infirmary. It was devoid of any life, as expected, but all of its equipment was in working order.

"Alright, I'll deal with Wilson. Nicole and Amanda, I need you to look for some gasmasks." Lander said in a commanding tone.

The two women gave a nod and ran off in search of some storage closets, which would hopefully have gasmasks stored inside. --107.201.224.138 06:49, 29 June 2015 (UTC)

Even when forcefully knocked into unconsciousness, a human's thoughts still lawlessly runs rampant like a swarm of agitated hornets, but not Wilson's, at least in this situation. His brain was vacant of any notions, like an eerie ghost town. His thoughts were bleeding out the gaping and blunt rip in the back of his head. It was like Wilson was dead. He wasn't even in a coma, where thoughts were locked inside a useless body. He was empty. A Class-D had somehow battered his helmet so badly it broke a chunk off and let him thrash Wilson's scalp.

The situation seemed utterly hopeless, and it was a miracle Wilson didn't instantly die the moment the baton cracked his skull and rattled his brain. Wilson was on life-support. But nothing was supporting him. He was dying, and surely was going to succumb to infection or blood-loss....that was until the injury began to fade. The broken skin and muscle tissue slowly began to regenerate like magic. The bloody gaping hole that served as a window between the dirty air to Wilson's skull began to close with a door of fresh tissue. It wasn't before long it looked like Wilson's wound never even happened. It was a miracle.

Wilson's eyes weakly fluttered opened. While whatever dragged his dying body back into the healthy stopped the blood-loss and healed all the major damage that was killing the guard, he was still extremely drowsy, and it didn't help that he just woke up from a deathly deep rest. He was so crippled he didn't even analyze where he was, just focusing on a blurry black figure looming over him. A splitting headache yanked him down, and he could barely slur out the words, "W-Where am I?"

Lander twitched his head towards Wilson, startled by the sudden voice. "Wilson you're awake!". Lander was...happy to say the least but couldn't really think of a way of expressing it. Wilson was in such a groggy trance literally the only think he could even process was the familiar tone of Lander's voice. Thank god Lander is still with him.

"L-Lander?....." Then another idea popped into Wilson's rattled skull. The only reason he's still willingly subjecting himself to this prisoner-littered hell in the first place. The elevator. It was his life duty to protect as much personnel as possible in situations like these, and the only feasible way he could prevent more deaths is if he stopped that elevator from rising up the shaft. "Lander," the grogginess began to temporarily fade to establish a serious tone. "Did we stop the....did we stop the-the elevator?" Wilson sounded like he was drunk off his ass.

"It was a no go until we got you some medical assistance. Most if not all the Ds are probably dead now thanks to the chlorine gas that they....,right I should also mention that they're flooding the sector with chlorine gas to stop the Ds." Lander paused to take a breath. "Look, since the Ds are gonna basically be all but wiped out by the gas, I think we should just take the elevator up to the main floor now."

"Lander," Wilson said, suddenly lashing out and grasping Lander by the collar. "There are nearly a quarter million people in this facility. Two thirds of them are defenseless researchers and technicians. I don't know what you MTFs are taught in training, but it is my sworn duty to protect those people no matter what."

"Alright fine, we'll destroy the elevator. But for the record I wasn't aware that they also taught "being drunk while on duty" in training."

Wilson didn't even have the strength or will to punch Lander's manhood, and instead donating all of his physical strength into pulling himself up into a sitting position on the medical table he laid upon. He looked to his side to reveal what divine benefactor healed him of his injuries. A silver amulet sat next to him. Wilson was weak, and knew he had to spare his effort as much as possible, so he didn't bestow any effort upon remembering what SCP number that amulet was. He also saw two yellow-soaked rags in Lander's hands that possessed the bitter stench of fresh urine.

"Lander, what the fuck is that smell? Is that a piss rag?" --Fireworks888 (talk) 08:05, 29 June 2015 (UTC)

"Yeah....we're gonna use it to combat the chlorine gas until we find some gas masks. Nicole and Amanda are heading to a supply closet now."

Wilson frowned. "God....I'm not even going to resist it. Lander, just what the hell happened to me, exactly?"

"Well, we were getting attacked by Ds and then...um...you were uh..." Come to think of it, Lander had absolutely no recollection of what had transpired. He just remembered getting attacked by Ds. After that his memory just jumped straight to when they reached Amanda's office. "Um, Ds.....I think?"

Wilson understood. Conflicts like those are like flashes. So memorable but unmemorable, so exciting you can't even believe it happened. "So. When is the gas spreading?"

"Probably right now. The PA gave off a notice about a discrepancy in the air filters about 10 minutes ago, so it should already have begun getting pumped into parts of the sector now."

"Jesus....wha-what if Nicole and Amanda are currently having their lungs crushed by the gas? What if these...rags don't work?"

"Unless my urine somehow has a malfunction then it-" The conversation was cut off by the sound of a rattle echoing throughout the medical bay. The two soldiers turned towards a vent in the upper corner of the room. The rattling was gaining in volume as the vent vibrated rapidly. This was followed shortly after by a yellowish, greenish substance being dispersed from the vent and into the surrounding area.

Lander quickly held up the second rag in front of Wilson's face. "Piss rag. Now"

Wilson obliged and took the rag, holding it up to his face whilst stomaching the stench.

"Ok, we can survive for a short while with these, but we need to find the others and get the gas masks right now or we're screwed." Together the two fled the room, however the hallway that awaited them wasn't faring any better.

It was almost covered in nothing but a yellow, thick mist that was rapidly reducing their field of vision. It also didn't help that right out the door they spotted a group of class-Ds choking and gasping for air, slowly falling to the floor against their will, leaving nothing but spots of twitching orange in the yellow haze.

"Shit, let's see if we can find them." Lander's muffled voice stated as he bolted on past Wilson, who quickly followed in pursuit.

-- CommanderMark (Talk) 01:54, 1 July 2015 (UTC)

Both women reached the room after a brief but ominous walk, none of them expressed a single thought at each other.

Amanda went first, she opened the door slowly, gulping before realizing the gross scene in front of them.

In the rather small room, 5 D-Classes lay on the ground, dead, each of them with some signs that an inmense brawl had taken place between them. Some of the men's heads were completely bashed into concave shapes, bent and worn out blunt weapons lying close to them.

4 of them were wearing gas masks, indicating the fight was because there weren't enough for one of them. Imagining the scene gave Amanda chills.

Nicole peeked over from Amanda's shoulder nervously, she gasped and looked away in fright, moments later Amanda entered the room hastily; there wasn't much time, most likely.

"I'll-... I'll heeelp you take them off." Nicole said in a low voice, she got on her knees and started taking the masks off the corpses as fast as she could. Amanda did the same, after taking Wilson's helmet off her head.

As she finally got one of the masks off, Amanda realized the front respirator was smashed, exposing the interior of the mask, surely this one wouldn't have any practical use. Amanda tapped the ground twice, indicating to Nicole the discovery, then she pointed to the open supply closets, as to tell her she was gonna attempt searching for hopefully forgotten masks there.

She got up on her feet again and walked to the nearest one, as she neared it she looked down on the ground, where one of the Ds, a young, black haired man, was lying dead, his face was colored a slight purple and there was a large red line going across his neck. His teeth were clenched and his facial muscles locked into a expression of hopeless agony, in his right hand, a gas mask, held with all his strenght. Next to him lay another D-Class, on his side, with a large gash on his abdomen, his intestines were lightly exposed, with a large pool of blood underneath him. The whole scene made sense, Amanda frowning briefly before taking a few more steps to the closet.

Looking frantically through the closet, she wasn't able to find anything. There weren't any more gas masks. Only three, and they needed four. Nicole was almost done getting the second one off.

Amanda turned around and waited a small moment, collecting her thoughts. What was it they were pumping into the facility? Would gas masks even stop it? Maybe Wilson was dead, pherpaps they only needed three gasmasks?

All her thoughts vanished quickly as she noticed the vent in the wall, facing opposite to Nicole's back, a thick, heavy, yellow mist started pouring slowly from the vent. It was the gas! She grabbed whatever spare rags, towels and clothes she could get from the closet and dashed for the vent, Nicole too concentrated to notice anything.

Covering the vent, Amanda managed to stop the flow of gas, inhaling some of the fumes in the process. She felt a painful burning sensation going from her mouth and nose all the way to her trachea, and some light dizziness. She couldn't breathe well and with a forceful spasm she began coughing loudly, still forcing her cloth-covered arm agaisnt the vent to give Nicole more time. She was done taking off the third and final gas mask.

http://i.imgur.com/cJlbbut.jpg

--Irontaco (talk) 09:21, 19 July 2015 (UTC)

Nicole gasped as she turned around and saw Amanda struggling to cover the vent.

"Amanda!" she yelled as she watched the mute woman cough from the toxic chlorine gas. Holding the gas masks in her arms, she ran to Amanda and handed her one, attempting to put it on for her. The woman took the gas mask in her hands and strapped it over her face, taking deep breaths as her air was filtered.

Nicole looked down at the remaining masks and realized there was not enough for all of them. However, she realized she would not need one for herself as her lungs could filter out the chlorine gas. She watched as Amanda tried to steady her breathing, but every so often she would enter random coughing fits. Along with that, her face looked slightly irritated from the chlorine.

"Come on...we need to get to Mr. Wilson and Mr. Lander." Nicole said. Amanda nodded, but before they left, she handed Nicole a helmet she had been carrying. The robotic women gave it a slightly confused look, but slipped it on rather than argue.

They left the storage closet in a hurry, hoping to make it back to the infirmary in time to give their friends the gas masks they needed. Nicole watched in horror as yellow gas slowly filled the halls of the facility. Hopefully there would be enough time.

As they neared the infirmary, however, the women heard footsteps from behind. Both darted over almost instantly before both of them were pushed over by a man in a labcoat.

"Hey, fuck you for earlier!" The bearded, scruffy looking man said before grabbing the helmet Nicole had been wearing and darting off. Both of the women simply looked on in bewilderment.

Rather than dwell on that small occurence for too long, Nicole and Amanda simply got back up and continued on, quickly nearing the infirmary.

When they finally arrived, Nicole gasped as she opened the door and found both Mr. Wilson and Mr. Lander coughing their lungs out. She didn't hesitate to run over and hand them their gas masks. Both of them quickly slipped on the filtering life-lines. --107.201.224.138 11:58, 20 July 2015 (UTC)

If it weren't for Lander's piss, Wilson's lungs would've been fatally crushed by a cloud of yellow gas. Wilson was tired of this shit, and didn't know what he was going to do after this riot was patched up. Transfer to a less dangerous and accident-prone containment site, request demotion to a less action-packed rank. Hell, even retire. The guard had almost given up hope as he trudged through the blanket of yellow mist, but almost let out a sigh of relief as he saw two small women weakly limping in the distance. There were no exchanges, of course, when the four met up. Amanda was obviously extremely weak, which lead Wilson to believe she had inhaled a huff of gas or two. Hopefully it wouldn't hinder her too much.

Wilson and Lander donned the gas masks. It was hot, tight, and extremely uncomfortable, but Wilson had a strange, child-like attraction to it. Gas masks were badass, and he rarely got to wear them. His confidence was instantly boosted the moment the mask awkwardly settled onto his face, and he wished he had a mirror. God, Wilson felt like an immature child wearing his father's suit. It was time to focus.

"Okay," Wilson's deep, muffled voice spoke. "You gals didn't know, but I planned on trapping the D's down here by crashing the elevator. But now that the gas is extinguishing them, I think we can all agree on plan 'get the fuck out of this sector'. Any objections?"

No one answered the rhetorical question, of course.

"Alright. The elevator shouldn't be far from here. Just hang in there. Once we're out of Sector E, we're home free. Let's not waste any time."

Wilson felt awkward taking charge of the group but now wasn't the time to feel awkward. It was time to, as the plan stated, get the fuck out. Going past several D's choking on their own breathe and sometimes even desperately grabbing the groups' boots before succumbing to a slow death, the four finally reached the elevator. A short ride later, the mildly-gas filled lift came to a halt, and its doors swiped open where the gas spread out and seemed to evaporate into...oh no.

A hall. Gun shot-riddled scientists laying in pools of their own blood. Technicians and janitors with their brains bashed out and painting the walls. The animals had reached Sector D. They're infesting the site. --Fireworks888 (talk) 19:54, 20 July 2015 (UTC)

End of part 1, click here for part 2.