Don't Blink
By Kool Killer
One week before the cataclysm at site 19
Name: Hale Blight
Race: Caucasian, White
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Height: 6ft, 1in
Weight: 205 lbs.
Eyes: Light Green
Hair: Golden Brown
Citizenship: United States of America
Marks, Scars, Tattoos: None
Criminal History: 2 counts of Telecommunications tampering in the first degree. Resulting in the loss of sensitive materials to national security. Felony Charges were pressed but later expunged at the request of (REDACTED)
Unit ID: Mobile Task Force, Nine Tailed Fox, E-11
Designation: Communications and Video Surveillance Specialist
Distance from Site 19: 582 miles
Current location: West Richland, WA
Hale Blight was in route to meet up with NTF members at a party that was set up for them by the Secure Contain Protect Foundation for an astounding 200 days accident free in the workplace. Only people that were affiliated with the foundation could attend. The last containment breach was pretty bad; a lot of good people didn't pull through. SCPF paid very handsomely for the work but it could cost your wellbeing. Simple question, would you risk your life for a grotesque amount of money? For most members the answer was YES, It was a part of the risk you took working for these guys. Plus when you make almost a million dollars a year untaxed with the best health care you can get, it's kind of hard to resist. Whenever there was an "accident" in the foundation, it meant that somebody didn't follow procedure and died. Then the MTF would be sent in to clean up and recapture or terminate any SCP's that had gotten loose. Class-D's were normally used for the most dangerous SCP operations as far as testing and the like. The life expectancy of a Class-D was less than five days. So of course the accident free days didn't retain to the Disposable personal. Class D's always got fucked up by the SCP's. But since all Class D personal were volunteers from death row, their mishaps never counted nor were they missed. Hale was very fortunate all things considered. If it wasn't for special interests in the SCPF that wanted his expertise, he'd be wearing an orange uniform instead of a black and brown one.
Hale pulled up to an unmarked building and parked in the parking lot. He exited his dark green Isuzu Trooper and closed the door. It was dusk out and the overhead parking lot lights were on, obscuring his face in shadows. Hale zipped up his brown jacket and tucked his M&P 40 Shield light handgun into his concealable holster in his black slacks. Hale started to walk up to the front entrance of the building. Many cameras lined the rooftop of the grey three story building. Two guards greeted him at the front door.
"Good after noon sir, I need to see your SCPF credentials and state ID," The guard on the left held his hand out. Hale produced his credentials and handed them to the guard. Hale looked over at the other guard. He was holding his right hand to his side suggestively; no doubt he had some kind of SMG hidden in his coat. The guard on the left carefully looked over Hale's credentials and handed them back.
"Please enjoy yourself Specialist Blight," Hale nodded. Both the guards opened the doors and stood aside. Hale walked into the grey building and proceeded to the second security check point. The walls had warning signs prohibiting recording devices and phones of any kind. Hale kept moving until he came to the next checkpoint. The guards at this checkpoint were more relaxed. The guard closest to Hale smiled and spoke from behind his desk.
"Hello there, If you have any electric devices please hand them over before proceeding past the EMP Gate," The guard pulled out a yellow folder and opened the top. Hale removed his phone from his pocket and his firearm. "Sir you can keep your firearm, I just need electronics," Hale holstered his pistol and handed his phone over. The guard slipped his phone into the folder and closed the top. "What's your name sir?"
"Hale Blight," The guard wrote the name on the folder and stored it in a cabinet that was behind his desk. "Go ahead and walk through," Hale walked through the gate. The hairs on his neck stood up and a heat flash passed through him. Probably going to get cancer in the next ten years, Hale thought. He continued to walk down the long hall until he came to a set of wooden doors. He opened them and walked on in. The room was pretty big. Tables with food and drinks were off to the side. The walls were decorated with the company logo and the lights in the room were dimmed to give a more relaxing feel. A cheer came from a table on the left; Hale looked over and spotted his squad mates. He walked over to them.
"Hey guys," Hale smirked.
"The point Dexter has arrived!" Sergeant Macaulay grabbed a chair and slid it over to Hale. Hale chuckled and sat down. "Alright we got a problem here," Macaulay looked accusingly at Hale. Hale shrugged. Macaulay grabbed a beer and popped the top off. "Here you go, that's about right," Hale and Macaulay tapped their bottles together in a toast. Hale glanced around the table, everyone was here. Brant Baston, Jarvis Requis, Dustin Haugh, Devin Kints and Jim Macaulay.
Brant specialized in Explosive Ordinance Disposal. Brant was more reserved and quiet. He wasn't a pussy by any means, he just didn't like confrontation. He was probably one of the nicest people you'd meet, until you started shooting at him or made a loud startling noise. His pale blue eyes complimented his charismatic abilities. It was damn near impossible to hate the guy.
Jarvis was the only African American in the squad. He was very outspoken. If you did something he didn't like, you'd hear about it. He specialized in heavy weapons and guided munitions systems. He was also pretty renowned in basic for one hit knock outs during close quarters combat training. Most of all he was a team player. His squad was his family, you messed with them he'd wreck shop.
Dustin was the squad medic. He had studied at a medical university for four years. He was a registered nurse for a while making bank, but the job was boring and very tedious. So he joined the MTF and excelled at his work and was place in the NTF unit. He had a touch that was special, and he could calm anyone in distress. Wounds that should be fatal would be minor after he patched it up.
Devin could hit a nickel from a half mile away. He was probably one of the best marksmen NTF had ever seen. His reaction time was unfathomably quick. It almost seemed like he could slow time down. If there ever was a quick scoper, it was him. Devin could also read people like a book, if he could see your eyes; he could read your intentions.
Jim Macaulay was the sergeant and jokester of the squad. He had a keen ability to make light of just about any situation, life threating or not. His leader ship skills were very strong and he had a profound way of getting the job done quickly. If he said the job would take ten minutes, then it was taking ten minutes. He was so good at what he did; you never wanted to disappoint him.
"Hale…YO HALE," Jarvis snapped his fingers.
"Huh?" Hale looked up.
"You had one beer man, and you're already smashed?" Jarvis chuckled. Hale smiled and threw back some more of the ice cold brew.
"Not even close," Hale responded.
"You better live it up my man, we only got three more days until we rotate back in, and it is going to blow," Jarvis killed his beer off and snagged another one.
"Yeah, it'll be boring, but I'm going to be looking forward to the sixty thousand dollar pay checks plus six thousand in hazard pay, sixty six thousand a month," Hale replied with a big shit eating grin on his face.
"I heard that, then we'll just have to put up with those creepy ass SCP's for three months, and we rotate back out," Jarvis chuckled.
"Just like clockwork," Devin nodded. The six buddies continued conversing and drinking. Although they were trying to get their mind off site 19, doubt was still lingering. They just couldn't shake the feeling that something was off…
Authors note: So I just recently played SCP Containment Breach and I like it a lot. For a free game it is one of the best. The monsters are creepy, the atmosphere is bleak and the gameplay is spot on. So I am going to try to make this story work. If I don't get everything right at first don't feed me to SCP-682 alright?