Edited - 23-09-14

Synopsis - Insert finds himself posing as an MTF Soldier. With no training and vastly out of his depth the conclusion is obvious.

Special thanks to Jackie Avocado for letting me borrow his idea. It's adjusted from his original premise however, the core idea is still the same.

Chapter 1 Part 1 - Starting Jitters

MTF Fireteam designated ("Office Workers")

Date - [REDACTED]

Time - 7:24 PM

Location - Military Blacksite - [REDACTED]

Mission - [DATA EXPUNGED]

Helmet Cam - Codename Files designated "Alpha 1-1"

[*ERROR*Security clearance not sufficient] Processing [Please remain calm and remain where you are, relevant authorities are on their way.]

*Helicopter blades whirring*

"1-1 Alpha, this is Stalker Actual, you are inbound to site-19, ETA 10 mikes how copy, over?"

"Stalker, Alpha 1-1 copies all, out."

Adjusting my seat slightly in the 'copter my eyes scan over the compatriots for the journey.

Alpha 1-2 "Lambert" a model soldier, at least as far as I've seen. Considering the accent, probably ex-SAS. I silently nod, no complaints in regards to him.

Alpha 1-3 "Vincent" Veteran marine who managed to stay alive long enough to get noticed by the Foundation. Most likely fought in Iraq, maybe saw something during his tour he shouldn't have, and got an offer he couldn't refuse. Poor bastard.

Alpha 1-4 "Oxide" Chemical warfare expert. I've previously worked with him, can't say it was a pleasure. The guy was unnerving, acting like a psychopath sometimes, which might be true considering the nature of his specialisation. Oxide is rigidly staring at our last member that got added with no warning to my fire team.

Alpha 1-5 "Jack Averson" Scoffing slightly I take in the newest member of my team. He's an enigma that's for sure. I had just gotten acquainted with him during the helicopter ride to site-19 and what I've seen so far doesn't paint a great picture. The young lad's nervous, which while understandable considering the work, is not ideal nor the norm when it comes to Foundation hiring practice. The people the spooks hire are usually the ones with nerves of steel, the creatures against you demand nothing less.

I'll take solace in that, there's no way a greenhorn would be in a squad like this. He'll have to shape up when we're on ground. I sigh, truth is, we're just a support team to the main teams going inside and honestly I'm thankful for it. I'm not exactly raring to go into a bunker filled with horrors after all. In the end, while by any metric of a standard army we'd be elite, in the ranks of the abnormal, we were just grunts. The real deal like the NTF will be going straight toward the most dangerous SCPs of the site.

Our job? We would go in, secure a rescue vault of scientists and get out. Far behind any sort of frontline in this scenario, teams will have already cleared most of the area where we'll be going. If everything goes right, we would be in and out in no time. A milk run if there ever was one in this occupation.

As I go through my final checks, ensuring my gas mask was on properly, the intercom crackles to life. "Avatar-1 to Alpha, we are descending, get ready to disembark."

"Copy Avatar-1, we're ready to rock," I reply.

Turning my head to get all squad members in vision, giving them a quick look, and seeing nothing out of place. Nodding in satisfaction, I gesture to the rest to be ready to move.

The helicopter slowly lands on a grass field designated as a temporary helicopter pad.

"Alright lads, you've all read the mission brief. We'll go to the designated lieutenant and get approval, take the elevator and get down to the entrance zone. Be aware, one of the site directors approved a 'modular site project' which makes our intel on the inside of the site outdated. I've got directions from Stalker on how to proceed, just follow me in CQB formation when we're down there and you'll be golden. You know the handbook, this op is nothing new. Let's move."

Getting out of the heli, I gave a quick glance over the grassfield, seeing nothing, I gestured for the rest to disembark.

Moving in a standard wedge formation we quickly approached site-19. While doing so I inform Stalker of the team's arrival. Approaching the site I hear Oxide barking a quick command to Alpha 1-5.

"Back in formation, 1-5" Oxide barked.

"Right, my bad." an anxious voice answered him.

Taking a peek back I see 1-5 completely out of position and despite 1-4s reprimand, didn't seem to make any move to adjust. Judging by Oxides clenched jaw and posture, 1-4 didn't seem to like 1-5 making a fool out of him. I could see the moment Oxide decided to let it go, by the loosening of his posture. 1-5 just made an enemy, and he'll likely get chewed out after the operation. I didn't need my subordinates sabotaging each other out of anger during the mission and I was glad Oxide understood that.

Lives were on the line here, both their own and others.

Getting the all clear and moving onsite we were directed towards our superior. Sitting on a steel chair inside a temporary concrete on-site HQ he gazed at the five of us with tired but stern eyes.

"Alpha?" he questioned

"Yes sir, Alpha 1-1 to 1-5 reporting for tasking."

"I thought you were only a fireteam of four?"

"Last minute change of plans sir, we didn't get a heads up either. We're Oscar mike anyhow."

The superior seemed to accept that with a knowing nod, likely having previously been subjected to similar circumstances before. He stood up and started debriefing the team on the situation in the compound.

"It's one of the, if not the worst containment breach we've had at Site-19. SCP-173, 106, 049, 939, and several others are on the loose and as we speak the security at 682s containment chamber is failing. If we don't get this situation under control soon, he'll break out, and then we'll be up shit creek without a paddle. Your original mission was to secure scientists and get them to safety. Your previous mission has been rendered moot. The shelter has been breached and all personnel that was within the shelter are KIA. You have been reassigned to clear out the remains of the entrance zone and when successful to then divert to aid the main force moving into the heavy containment zone. You will do your best to contain all escaped scps and secure the facility. If the breach develops to be uncontainable your highest priority will be to move to the Alpha warhead and ensure that it's operational. Questions?"

By the look on the lieutenant's face, he seemed genuinely remorseful to send us down there to do a job we weren't trained to do. Oh sure, we could capture and contain scps, but the situation was too hot for a team of our calibre. After all, we're only human, which when it comes to more 'elite' MTF teams isn't a guarantee.

"If the situation develops into a worst-case scenario and we need to ensure the arming of the warhead, what is our window of escape until detonation?"

In response, the lieutenant grimaced and said "90 seconds." to my slight shock.

"Shiiit"

Alpha 1-5 echoed the sentiment shared by the rest of the team even if they were too professional to voice it.

At the unfairness of it all 1-3 seemed to muster up the courage to question the lieutenant.

"Sir respectfully, eh, we've read the dossier and we're aware of what kind of resistance we can expect down there. But this is a bit above our pay grade."

"I understand your hesitation Alpha, if it provides you any comfort, know that hazard pay is in full effect."

"Respectfully sir? It doesn't."

The lieutenant grimaced but nodded.

"There is no other option Alpha, you're green to go."

"Roger, Moving out," I said with some strain.

Doing a 180 I moved outside, going towards the escalator that would take us down to the entrance zone. Stalker had been informed about our reassignment and would guide and deactivate the tesla gates when the team came across them. Making my way inside the elevator I pressed the button to take everyone down. The elevator doors closing sound seemed like a death knell as the outside quickly disappeared, taking me underground. For better or worse, this was the beginning of the end.

Shit, shit, shit. Was this really happening? I'd been minding my own business at home. Relaxing after a tiring day of hard labour. I'd momentarily dozed off, only to wake up right outside a helicopter garbed in full military gear. A gas mask clung uncomfortably tight to my face. At first, I thought it a dream but was quickly dissuaded by that notion from the sheer 'realness' of the situation. After several moments of floundering, I managed to deduce that I was in a death world by the iconic patch on the shoulders of my fellow soldiers. SCP, Secure, Contain, Protect. A horrible universe to be in, where the average joe at any point could be shunted into the sun or something equally worse by whatever horror of the week.

I briefly considered bolting but I realised that I wouldn't be able to get far. I was inside a military complex on all sides, and the only way to get out was through the helicopter. While busy deliberating, one of the military guys took me by the arm and sat me down forcefully on one of the helicopter seats after not responding to his orders.

I had at this point figured out that I was supposed to be some sort of MTF and we were supposed to go somewhere, to probably contain an SCP? I gulped, I didn't want to die normally. In this universe even less, what kind of afterlife even existed here? Nothing good I'd imagine.

Looking up I was met with the stare of the soldier who had briskly put me down in the helicopter seat. He seemed annoyed.

I took a quick peek around to observe the rest of the people in the passenger compartment. They seemed professional, calm, and collected. I couldn't say the same. My hands were shaking slightly. Everyone else besides the soldier in front of me was checking their equipment, making me realise that I should probably do the same. I had some training when it came to weapons. I'd gone to the gun range before but by no means did I consider myself an expert. So why, why did it come so easily to me? I checked my ammo and ensured my gas mask sat on properly as if I'd done this a thousand times before. Perhaps my isekai power was having an instinctive understanding of warfare?

If that was all I had, I wouldn't last long, not here.

When I introduced myself, I missed the part where I was supposed to say a code name and not my real name, so right now my code name was stuck as "Jack Averson" It was obvious that everyone here assumed that I was a trained soldier, I didn't want to break that illusion. Problem was, the body I had was not my own, far too well trained to be mine. I haven't gotten a chance to look at my face but I assumed that to be the case in that department too. Idly I wondered when someone would realise I was not the person they believed me to be, the Foundation would be the organisation to pick up on a new sudden personality.

When we left the helicopter behind us, I saw the rest move in a formation of some kind, analysing it I guessed where I was supposed to stand in it, hoping nobody caught my obvious inexperience. My fears were realised when the hardass who had sat in front of me before barked at me in reprimand for being out of position. I tried to instinctively move to the correct spot, but I took too long concentrating and the soldier seemed to give up on me. I sagged slightly in disappointment at my own inability, my life was on the line here and I was making a fool out of myself.

I wanted to run, to curl up and cry. I knew I didn't have that option, however. I'll simply have to do my best to present a stiff upper lip despite my fears.

We managed to get to the base, got debriefed by the officer, and when I heard we were supposed to take on the worst of site-19, I barely stifled a hitch. "Shiiit" We were so fucked. At this point, I considered running. Maybe going up to the officer and telling him what little I knew of the breach would let me avoid being neck snapped by a damn statue, however that's assuming that this event is the breach from a game I've played long ago. 'Scp Containment Breach' followed a D-9341 doing his best to escape the facility and when he died he went back in time to a 'save'. If he exists I can confirm my theory, but even so, going to the Foundation and telling them everything I know would likely also end in my death.

I was in a catch-22 where no matter what decision I made it seemed like my only fate was to die. And wasn't that depressing? Sighing I tried to straighten my back to continue the charade, hoping it made me look more confident. Afterward, I followed the rest of the team, took my spot in the elevator, and waited for the clown party to begin.

Site-19 Entrance zone

GATE - B

Fireteam ("Office Workers")

Stepping out of the elevator the fireteam spread out, clearing the room. Seeing it clear, the squad leader, Sergeant 'Files' moved towards the reinforced door. Swiping his keycard the massive metal doors slowly parted to reveal a sterile office corridor. Making a hand signal he moved forward with the rest of the team trailing behind him, Scanning around for threats.

"Stalker this is Alpha 1-1, we have entered the entrance zone -break- interrogative where to next, I see three doors. Right, left, front. All leading to similar-looking corridors. How copy, over?"

"Alpha 1-1, Alpha 1-1, this is Stalker, go right, then left, then right twice. You should arrive at the intercom room. Send traffic when at location. How copy, over?"

"Alpha 1-1 solid copy, we're Oscar Mike. Out."

"1-5 cover our six, I'm taking point, stay behind me and follow the rulebook and you'll do fine." Files signalled forward with his hand and they trudged along.

It was eerie, Files mused, no sound was being made besides the boots clattering on the ground. Each corridor looked the same, like some demented labyrinth. Occasional blood splatter littered the hallway as if someone had been trying to get away from something while bleeding badly. It wasn't hard to imagine what.

This area was supposed to be clear, but the bunker had been breached and the situation had gone FUBAR. In another scenario, he might've been laxer, but now he was as high-strung as 1-5 was on the helicopter ride. Scanning each room with his rifle, checking each corner they slowly arrived at the hallway where the intercom room was. The door to the intercom room required a keycard.

Files attempted to swipe the keycard provided by Stalker on the control pad, causing the pad to light up red and an angry but short beep to ring out.

Sighing, he unlatched the strap on his vest containing his radio and pressed the 'push to talk' button on the handheld radio, shortened to PTT in military speak.

"Stalker, Alpha 1-1 we are at the intercom room, uh, my keycard has insufficient clearance to open it. How copy, over?"

"Alpha 1-1 this is Stalker, seems like a mixup of your original mission. You were never supposed to have clearance for it. Uhh, I can't open it through remote control. Something is stopping me, standby."

"Alpha 1-1 copies, standing by."

Files glanced back seeing his men in position holding the doors adjacent to the room. Nodding in approval he tapped the floor with his boot while waiting.

"Alpha 1-1, Stalker, uhh, it seems like someone inside the compound is actively fighting against our remote control. I can't help you at this time. Suggest you leave the intercom door and continue moving deeper into the compound. How copy, over?"

"Alpha 1-1 copies Stalker, Alpha 1-1 going deeper into the compound. How copy, over?"

"Stalker copies, right, this is where it gets tricky, no teams have gone your route before, and you'll be clearing the last of the entrance zone. I can't give you directions anymore, because the Modular site project doesn't have a map to follow due to its doctrine. I guided you through what was already explored, at this time you will be entering uncharted territory. I can no longer provide you directional assistance, Stalker out."

Well shit…

A nervous huff was heard in the background after the radio transmission. Files inspected his troops and hid a small wince at what he saw. 1-2 seemed to be sagging slightly but otherwise seemed unaffected. 1-3 was tapping his rifle in stress. 1-4 was stoic, showing no sign of even having heard the transmission. 1-5 eyes were darting everywhere nervously. Files could see a sweat drop going down 1-5s face through the transparent glass of his gas mask. He grimaced in sympathy. This mission just kept getting worse and this was only the entrance zone. Presumably, it'll only get worse from here.

"Right lads, once more unto the breach." Files said in fake cheer.

Getting acknowledgements from his troops they were once more traversing the facility.

Moving as a pack they passed more corridors, occasional side doors that lead to offices and janitorial closets. Eventually, they stumbled upon a cafeteria, scanning the room they noticed a sign above an inconspicuous coffee machine.

SCP 294 IS ONLY AUTHORISED TO BE USED WHILE UNDER OBSERVATION OF LEVEL 3 CLEARANCE OR HIGHER. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL LEAD TO TERMINATION.

"Think this is one of the SCPs we're meant to contain?" Questioned Lambert.

"Give me a sec, I don't remember 294 from the dossier. Probably means it's safe. I'll call it in just in case. Stalker, Alpha 1-1, do you copy over?"

"Stalker copies, send traffic."

"Stalker, Alpha, we've come across an SCP designated 294, looks like a coffee machine, what's our ROE? How copy, over?"

Whilst watching my commander radioing information to command, I spied a couple of documents laying down on a desk. The desk was seemingly connected to 294, it was likely where they ensured any prospective user had proper identification. Moving forwards, I passed 1-4 who had been tracking me after noticing my attention being directed to something other than ensuring that all potential firing angles were covered. Ignoring him I reached the desk and took a quick look.

Yeah, that was an SCP file alright. Skimming through it briefly I didn't find anything I hadn't read before. Though it was surreal seeing a real SCP file before me.

"Find anything?" A gruff voice asked, startling me.

Glancing at 1-4 through the corner of my eye I replied "It's classified as 'safe', well as safe as anything anomalous can ever be." Shrugging my shoulders lightly, I moved towards the coffee machine, at this point the officer was done speaking with command, not that I noticed.

Standing in front of it, the archaic number pad greeted me. Something I'd noticed whilst walking through the corridors was that all computers were those old blocky ones of the 90s. Starkly coloured white, which by my time was obsolete. This isn't my world, nor would it seem my time.

This coffee machine reflected the time just as well as the computers did. And in a way that didn't set in before, I realised I was truly far from home. In my universe, galaxy, whatever, on my earth during the 90s I was a toddler just discovering the world. Here? I'm standing, living as an adult during a generation I've only heard inane stories about from my parents.

From what little I remembered about an old game I played long ago, this device could produce liquids that had the possibility of enhancing my chances of survival, to make me faster and stronger, even if only for a short time. Problem was, as I took a small peek behind me and noticed the attention I was getting, I had too many eyes on me. I couldn't risk it even if it was tempting.

Liquid courage or the knowledge needed to get out here alive in a cup was very tempting but useless if my back was going to get perforated by suspicious 'allies'.

I needed an excuse for taking this much time, but surprisingly I never needed to formulate one because just as I was about to speak up, 1-4 did it for me.

"No contaminants detected on or surrounding SCP-294, we can continue 1-1."

A slight emote from 1-1 seemed to indicate an epiphany.

"Right, good thinking 1-5, 1-4, let's continue then."

As we prepared to continue our trek I eyed 1-4, wondering if it was a genuine misunderstanding on his part or if he deliberately helped me mislead 1-1. Perhaps Occam's razor was best utilised here instead of deliberating on the latter.

Nevertheless, we continued our journey further down the facility.

Stalker drummed his fingers against the desk inside one of the overwatch rooms provided by the on-site director of military efforts concerning site-19.

He was deliberating the information recently acquired from his fellows while monitoring Alpha squads movements in the compound from the few security cameras he could access.

According to fellow overwatchers, leading their own teams through the facility they had been having similar problems accessing anything inside the compound. Frankly, the only so-called success had been the Tesla gates which were almost fully under Foundation control at this point. However, when it came to all other electronic equipment most efforts had failed, and when it came to the attempts to specifically take control of the facility remotely every attempt had ended in a disturbingly but non-surprising failure. Even the few cameras he's managed to wrangle from whatever being that managed to hijack them in the first place is largely useless and likely the reason why he was able to do so in the first place. All cameras he managed to get control over were situated at the very beginning of the entrance zone. Providing no oversight of his wards. There was little comfort in knowing nobody unauthorised could escape without him knowing.

It was a bonus however, he mused. He'd been relegated to staring at his radio more than the few monitor screens provided to him, ironic he supposed. The team had only started their run through the last of the entrance zone, and he personally didn't believe much was left. Although several high-ranking scientists' offices hadn't been located yet. He presumed they'd soon show up and he'll have to direct his wards to take a look inside.

It was likely the keycard provided wouldn't do the job, a rather fatal error in hindsight. The breaching charges 1-2 had on him should do the job and should be a more appropriate use of them than the intercom door. Any sort of files, or secret documents the scientists just had lying around had to either be secured or destroyed before anyone or anything managed to get a hold of them in the chaos. His superior had explicitly ordered him to send his guys to investigate. Which hinted towards there being something of importance in one or several offices.

It wasn't unheard of, but the situation was, and as such, the scope of the potential leaks was larger. And by this reasoning, the importance of ensuring information security is larger by default.

Looking down at the paper stack lying on his desk, he scoffed. 'Modular site project' Yeah right… This is a clear-cut example of what happens when a civilian no matter how bright starts making changes without consulting someone with military or security expertise. If Maynard is still alive, he'd make sure to personally ensure he suffers for his mistake.

I mean come on, how could you be so overconfident in your ability to keep things in their cages, to dedicate the whole facility plan to keeping hostile invaders out? Frankly, the entire doctrine was an oxymoron. It wasn't as if any enemies of the Foundation would commit to a full-scale assault. Few organisations opposed to the foundation are that foolish and those who are wouldn't have the info or brains to go after site-19 in that way.

Sides' the whole philosophy of the foundation was to keep things in, not to keep things out. And look where Maynards overconfidence brought him, the largest breach in site-19 history and the most hilariously horrendously dangerous recontainment operation he's ever personally been a part of. The squads inside had everything stacked against them, and he'd heard from Overlord that casualties had been taken.

That's not even mentioning that renegade D-Class pilfering SCPs, he'd only overheard a snippet but it gave enough information to paint an amusing picture.

A shitshow put it quite succinctly in Stalkers opinion.

We continued our trudge through the endless corridors of the entrance zone, and I found myself cursing whoever designed the site. Each corridor looked the same and despite finding a facility map on one of the walls it was to our collective frustration outdated, our jitters didn't help to stem our frustration, and the small tics some of my charges had developed revealed the tension. Several times we found ourselves taking the wrong turn and ending up at a dead end, having to double back and getting the dawning realisation we didn't remember from which direction we came.

I cursed the fact that we had to close each door behind us, to ensure SCPs didn't have an expressway of open doors to lead them to the Gates. That which if breached was the main way for any anomaly to escape.

And while I understood this logically it didn't stop a certain helplessness to creep in, regardless, I've experienced far worse and likely so have the people behind me, so I resolved to put it behind me and continue our mission in futility to make sense of the labyrinth of corridors the entrance zone proved to be.

There were instances where we arrived in rooms not completely the same as the previous one, one such instance, we found ourselves at the medical wing, and after a short investigation found a body that had its guts strewn across the floor in a mockery of real surgery. 1-5 dry heaved despite his gasmask, luckily he didn't paint the inside of it green. A rather stark reaction to a dead body, though not completely out of hand. While mentally I think 1-5 processed the body with the cold precision necessary in this line of work, the stress we'd all been feeling could have easily caused the slip-up.

1-4 seemed less forgiving, although merely showed his disapproval with a shake of his head in 1-5s direction. 1-2 and 1-3 continued their ambivalence to 1-5s greenhorn tendencies. Likely having the same line of thinking as I did.

Though his next act was a contradiction to my previous musings of possible inexperience. He seemed to realise far sooner than the rest of us that the corpse may very well have been operated upon by 049, something which in my defence slipped through my mind due to stress. I guess I was the pot calling the kettle black here.

Right as 1-5 started pointing his rifle at the previously believed to be corpse, it started moving to pounce upon 1-3. The rest of us called to warn 1-3 while simultaneously bringing up our rifles to support, the action proved unnecessary. 1-5s assumption and quick reaction proved to be everything needed to handle the situation. Having been ready before the corpse started moving he easily emptied his magazine upon the now-identified SCP-049-2 Terminating it.

What could have been a severe injury for 1-3 was instead a successful termination attempt. Due to 1-5s actions 1-3s opinion seemed to warm slightly in regards to our newest addition.

While we knew 049 could create 'Zombies' we've also had to read a dossier full of potential SCPs, this was the core reason we didn't immediately realise the potential danger of the situation. Luckily the reason why everyone reads every entry necessary to know when in a recontaiment operation was for exact situations like these. As long as one person remembers the exact details, a quick response can be initiated to combat the threat.

I shook my head to focus, when on the job in high-stress environments I sometimes became very clinical in my thought process.

It was useful, I silently begrudgingly admitted.

Though just as I admit it's useful it could be disconcerting at times.

I've had, how should I put it, suspicions as to why. Since I'm a fireteam leader, I wouldn't put it past the Foundation to put in a couple of failsafes inside of my mind. Both to make me a more effective soldier but also for… Assurance.

I may have even agreed to it. Just that one of the clauses required an amnestics treatment. I simply didn't know nor in the end, was I interested in digging further into it. For my continued life expectancy if nothing else.

When the medical wing debacle finished, I informed Stalker of the successful termination of the SCP-049-2 instance. After a short talk with Stalker, I was informed that the only notable places left inside the entrance zone were a couple of offices belonging to high-ranking scientists, which we were supposed to enter and breach if necessary. After that, we were supposed to locate the nearest heavy containment checkpoint and finally get into the nitty-gritty of the site.

I was lucky, really fucking lucky that I remembered there was a guy in the hospital that turned into a zombie. Honestly, I think it was the blue hospital gown the guy was wearing that nagged my memory for some reason. After all the walking, I somehow managed to briefly relax for a bit and after a couple of dead ends, it was hard to continue to be so high-strung the entire uhh, exploration? Journey? Either way, I could safely say I was a bit too lax when we entered the medical wing, which made the sight of the corpse a bit more dramatic than needed. Oh sure, it looked horrible, but my internet delvings had already desensitised me to most gore, any innocence long lost by the perilous nature of the interwebz. Plus another point to the reason why I shouldn't have reacted so strongly was the lack of smell, my gas mask masked any foul odours otherwise present in the room.

I think the reason I even dry-heaved in the first place was because of the shock. Because despite my so-called experience, I was for some reason not prepared to come face-to-face with a dead man. Maybe because I saw myself in him a bit, since that's very likely me by the end of the day.

That experience sucked, I affirmed inside my mind.

In fact, this entire adventure so far has been pretty low on my ratings.

1/5 stars, would not recommend. The only reason it wasn't 0/5, was simply because my callsign in the squad was 1-5 so I felt it fit better. This line of thought wasn't really valuable to my immediate survival, but it was comforting.

I allowed myself a small scoffing laugh. Though nobody but 1-4 and 1-3 seemed to acknowledge it. I didn't understand 1-4 but I appreciated his help. Not only did he get my head in the game when he manhandled me into the heli, but he also ensured I started taking things a bit more seriously during my miserable attempt at staying in formation. His help with 1-1 back at the coffee machine put him on my 'good' list. And though he seemed like a hardass, he honestly just seemed to look out for me.

I didn't know why. Maybe he knew the guy whose body I kidnapped, maybe he's just helping out his fellow soldiers and I'm the only one who's clearly struggling.

Maybe he just doesn't want dead weight.

Oh well. I shrugged.

1-3 seemed to be a bit more polite after saving his life, or at least from crippling injury. I even managed to start a small conversation with him, though it was mostly empty platitudes. As I started to drift off to new useless lines of thought 1-1 started talking from the front, continuing to clear every room while informing us of the new mission parameters. I was happy that I found myself in the position of rearguard and not the pointman position. I silently nodded in respect, 1-1 was after all sacrificing himself. When he inevitably dies I'll be sure to put a few flowers on his grave if I don't follow him.

Though that line of thought alarmed me, in a way, can't we all be considered redshirts!? I'm not even a part of the famous MTF squads… We're just mooks!

I was going to di- Before my thoughts could spiral out of control a strong hand landed on my shoulder. Quickly looking to the side to discover 1-4 silently eyeing me. Oh… I seem to have been slightly more shaken than I previously believed. Though the quickness of 1-4s reaction to my plight implied his gaze had been on me this whole time. I gave him a silent thumbs up in thanks and focused on what 1-1 was saying. All I got in response from 1-4 was a silent nod.

"Right Alpha, Stalker has a plan outlined for us, according to his data the only thing left of the entrance zone that we need to clear is a couple of offices belonging to Doctor Maynard, Doctor Harper, and finally Doctor Gears. There was supposed to be one more, one Doctor Lin but Stalker assures us we can quote on quote 'Skip that one' I'm inclined to follow Stalkers advice. After we're done we need to move to the heavy containment zone and link up with an NTF squad to then take the fight to the real monsters. We'll be acting as a support squad in the field with all that entails."

When I heard the names spoken by 1-1 I was practically assured of the similarities between this breach and the one I played several years ago. In the story, Maynard was the culprit of the entire breach, along with an agent called 'Skinner' together they orchestrated the breach by releasing SCP-106 courtesy of agent Skinner, which was the signal for Maynard to give complete access to the facility to SCP-079 an evil robot computer.

When 079 got full control of the facility he subverted the door controls, opening all doors containing all SCPs. Agent Skinner made it out alive, but Doctor Maynard paid for his hubris by getting decomposed by SCP-106, at the very least it's implied that he did. And when we arrive at Maynards office, Alpha and consequently the foundation will learn of his betrayal. For you see in his evilness Doctor Maynard left a note in his office confessing his crime, gloating about how easy it was to infiltrate site-19. I idly wondered if he prioritised getting out instead of writing a note gloating, he might've managed to escape 106's wrath.

Doctor Harper, I barely knew about and Doctor Gears I vaguely remembered as a pretty notable character in the SCP universe. But while I had skimmed a couple of SCP files, most of my knowledge of the SCP universe came from the game and not the wiki. Though now in hindsight I regret not being more invested in the whole thing.

Doctor Lin died in the game to 106 and if I don't misremember his office was trashed in the process.

I tried and failed to ignore the last subject 1-1 spoke about, if we managed to arrive at the heavy containment zone I could just kiss my ass goodbye, going into that clusterfuck is a death sentence. In fact, if forced, I might just have to book it. Though I say that as if it was an option. I'm already committed, running away will only make 1-1 call it in and brand me a deserter. Considering all exits are monitored by the foundation, that course of action only ensures my death comes slightly later rather than sooner.

Morbid, morbid, morbid. Shouldn't my Isekai adventure be less morbid and more of a power fantasy!? Shouldn't I at the very least gain some sort of power to tackle the various horrors beyond human comprehension? I don't want to be a mook, I want to be a special snowflake, with awesome power, and preferably with the power to safely and quickly get out of here, and when I mean here, I mean this universe, actually scratch that, I want out of this multiverse!

At some point during my musings, we had finally arrived in the corridor housing the three good doctors' offices.

1-1 signalled something with a small handwave, it probably meant something to the others, luckily for me in this context I can't read, so by that logic, I shouldn't need to heed it right? Yeah right… Anywho, anyhow 1-1 seemed to be playing eenie meenie miney mo with the doors, considering which one to choose before giving up and walking up to Harper's office. 1-1 Flashed his keycard on the control pad resulting in the same result as the previous attempt back outside the intercom room, he didn't seem to be surprised though a slight look of defeat oozed out of his posture. With an abnormal slowness compared to his previous motor skills 1-1 slowly reached out to his combat vest and unlatched his radio from the velcro strap in some sort of perceived defeat.

"Stalker, this is Alpha, Interrogative: Should we prioritise an office? 1-2 has 2 breaching charges but we got three doors to pry open here, uhh, yeah that's all, how copy, over?"

"Alpha, Stalker, Blow Maynards, and Harper's office open, Doctor Gears was off-site during the breach and well, as far as I've heard he's very spartan in his decorating even compared to Foundation standards, I don't think you'll find much of interest inside his nest, -Break- Just a heads up other teams have found some concerning documents and logged conversations that may indicate bad actors, if correct it's likely why the breach was so successful in the first place. Keep an eye out, Stalker out."

"Affirmative." 1-1 said, not pressing down the PTT.

1-1 turned his head back toward the rest of you and signalled for 1-2 to step up to Harper's office.

"1-2 you're up, get ready to breach and clear."

"Sir!"

"Alright 1-3, 1-4, 1-5, put some distance will ya yeah? Remember, no sightlines. This is basic stuff so if someone gets injured here you're all getting extra safety demolition training after this."

"Yes sir." All three of us chorused.

1-1 gave us all a stern nod before moving in position, he also signalled to me to… Probably watch our six, which I promptly did, by aiming my gun in the direction we didn't arrive from. I hoped that was enough? 1-1 didn't tell me off, so arguably I was probably on the right track.

"Sir door charge planted, ready to breach!"

"Dynamic approach, Hit it!"

"Breaching, Breaching!"

The explosion buffeted inwards but despite that metal debris came flying out to land in the middle of the corridor, I didn't have the chance to appreciate the door fragmentation, as my hearing did its best version of a dubstep song. "Fucking hell," I said silently, holding back a moan of pain.

"Move in! Go, go, go!"

1-1 to 1-4 moved in to clear the office room. Following the American approach to room clearing. Only 1-2 deviated slightly but showed his professionalism by course correcting immediately, not that I knew this.

"Clear."

"Clear, sir."

"All clear, good work boys. Now let's take a look at what Harper is working on."

The pain in my ears subsided quicker than I initially assumed it would. Allowing me to follow the rest inside without tipping off 1-1 about the minor injury caused by the blast. Shaking my head slightly to clear my vertigo only caused it to worsen, making me steady myself briefly.

Looking up I started to observe the office room, 2 office desks, 2 chairs, 2 computers, presumably the second one was in reserve in case of malfunction. A metal shelf in the corner of the room, no flower pot or any colour, just the same drab uniform grey and white, with smatterings of yellow stripes, overall very dystopian I judged.

"Hmm, Gonzales huh, seems pretty standard all things considered." 1-1 said holding up a stark white paper. "Yeah, we can ignore that one, Vincent hand me that other note will ya?" Vincent handed the paper he'd been reading over to Files. "Previous security breach, done by the old man, huh, but no date… Hmph, I don't have access to 106s incident reports. Give me a minute." 1-1 pressed the PTT on his radio and said "Stalker, Alpha, We're inside Harpers' room here and I've got an incident report detailing one of its escapades, identification code 106-0204, can you give me the date of the breach?"

"Alpha, Stalker, Standby."

"Roger, Alpha standing by."

1-1 tapped his foot and looked to 1-4 who was holding an orange sticker paper and questioned "Found anything?"

"Negative sir, just another note about the Gonzales situation." Oxide replied "Affirm." Files hummed in response while looking towards 1-2.

"Lambert?"

"Negative sir, just a first aid kit."

"A shame, Harper might've already cleared out his office before booking it."

"Less work for us," Vincent responded.

Files shrugged.

"Alpha, Stalker, We've got no file on record, my guess is whoever made it didn't have the chance to upload it to the network. If I'm allowed to take a gander here the report was likely created the same day as the breach."

"Solid copy Stalker… That's concerning, we'll be taking the file with us for review later, Alpha out."

"Alright, boys, 1 down, 1 more to go. 1-2 you know the drill."

"Yes sir."

Moving out of Harper's room after everyone else had picked it clean we once more found ourselves in the hallway waiting for 1-2 to ready the breaching charge. Learning from my previous mistake I ensured that my hands were ready to press down on my tactical headset, as its protection wasn't flawless, hopefully preventing me from being stunned this time.

1-4 who was behind me put a hand on my shoulder and leaned in to whisper, startling me. "Should Intermittent Vengeance Arm Again His Red Right Hand To Plague Us, on my mark." What? I opened my mouth to bemusedly ask what the fuck the guy was on about, but I was too late, the breaching started and I swiftly pressed down on the suction cups of my tac headset, protecting my ears as adequately as I could.

"Ready to breach sir, just say the word."

"Hit it 1-2."

"Yes sir, breaching, breaching!"

1-1, 1-2, and 1-3 quickly moved inside the office of one Dr Maynard, 1-4 slowly walked inside as well, with a glance thrown behind him ensuring my proper positioning? The rest of the team was already rifling through the office and 1-1 had immediately zeroed in on the lone white paper lying down in the middle of the metal desk. He seemed agitated, though I didn't have the time to consider why.

The reason was Oxides calmly uttered "Mark." directed towards me, raising his rifle at the unaware team member in front of him, causing me to freeze. I watched in disbelief as Oxide pressed down on the trigger of his modified M4A1 rifle. As the first bullet rang out through the office, punching straight through Lambert's throat as blood splattered upon the wall from his windpipe, as muscle and bone originating from Lambert's neck quickly fell to the ground while his entire body folded landing on the floor with quiet oomph. I discarded my rifle in shock, letting it clatter to the ground.

Oxide moved to adjust his rifle towards 1-1, but in my shock, I managed to retain some semblance of coherent thought 'This guy needs to be stopped' I moved to tackle Oxide, catching him by surprise, he didn't seem to expect me to act against him for some reason. As we fell to the ground together we came face to face for a couple of seconds, and I managed to decipher confusion and betrayal within his eyes in our brief staredown. Someone shouted something to the side of me but I was completely focused on my wrestling match with 1-4, for a brief moment I managed to hold the upper hand because of the sheer surprise my manoeuvre caused. It was quickly apparent however that I was being overwhelmed by Oxides' superior skill.

After wrestling for a few seconds Oxide managed to put my head in a headlock, he attempted to crack my neck in the compromising position and he would have been successful if it wasn't for the bullet suddenly piercing through his hindbrain, going through parts of his neck and brain only to ricochet off my helmet causing the bullet to fly into a nearby wall.

I slumped even further down the floor in shock, disbelief, and relief.

Looking at myself, at the blood, and the pieces of Oxides head that had landed on me I shuddered. The bullets' effects had painted much of my previous black uniform red, I could feel where the blood had seeped through the cloth, a surreal sticky sensation. I dry heaved, tears forming at the side of my eyes. I, I did-I don't kno- What's even goin- my thoughts were a mess. I started breathing faster, panic setting in but, suddenly-!

I felt two hands haul me up by my vest straps. Two furious eyes with a tint of confusion glared at me. "What the fuck was that!?" Files roared. He started shaking me "Why did Oxide shoot Lambert, Jack?! Why did you not shoot Oxide!?"

I stared barely comprehending the distraught expression painted on Files' face.

I gulped but answered honestly "Si- Sir, I panicked sir. I'm sorry sir. So sorry."

An astonished laughter was the response, Files looking at me searchingly, darting eyes trying to take me in as if searching for something. "You panicked?" Files said in a slightly calmer voice, after comprehending my answer a disbelieving chuckle rose from Files mouth, he made the motion as if to slick back his hair in exasperation.

"That makes it all good then, right? Just a silly mistake right?" Files patience seemed to break "YOU'RE A GODDAMNED MTF SOLDIER, START FUCKING ACTING LIKE IT!" he screamed, saliva finding itself trapped inside 1-1s gasmask.

Like a bipolar person, Files suddenly turned deadly serious.

"Listen, Jack, I had my doubts about you from the start but I choose to believe there was a reason you were here, that despite my doubts, you could handle the pressure. I thought I was wrong to peg you as a greenhorn at first because no way that anyone less than of the highest elite calibre would ever find themselves inside an MTF team. Today kid, you've proven me wrong. Congrats." He looked at me in disgust, before slumping down on Dr Maynards steel chair.

"Fucking hell." I heard 1-3 muttering to my right.

Dazedly I pondered, to distract myself if nothing else, and with a brief moment of thought I realised that I needed an answer to something bugging me.

"Sir, how did you know that it was Oxide you needed to shoot?"

Files raised his head to look at me searchingly, not finding what he was looking for he pointed at my rifle lying down on the floor a metre behind me.

"Oxide uses an M4A1, modified to his preference, you have a modified MK 16 Scar-l. I couldn't call myself an elite if I couldn't hear the difference between the two 1-5." Files mumbled in response.

Files perked up slightly, "Really that shouldn't even be a question 1-5." he noted shaking his head exasperatedly.

Straightening himself up as if just remembering something, my superior gave a glance at his radio before sighing. "Time to let them know the bad news. Stalkers not going to be happy."

Lazily holding the radio in one hand 1-1 pressed down the PTT button.

"Stalker, Alpha, you copy?"

"Stalker copies, send traffic Alpha."

"Alright, Stalker I've got some bad news. Inside Doctor Maynards office a white paper note sat on his desk, only containing the words, and I quote 'You made it so easy, nice work foundation' and as if Maynard being a traitor was not enough, Oxide shortly thereafter turned on us, killing 1-2, we managed to stop him before anyone else got a bullet in the neck, so coldly put we have two KIA down here." Files exhaled before continuing "Ehh, besides that…" Files started looking at a monitor he'd seen a previous snippet of during the fight. "Wait a second, yeah I got a monitor here, a conversation between an unknown user and an unknown client. They didn't say much, but what they did say seems pretty damning. The conversation goes as follows 'It's out' before a response by the unknown client responding 'proceeding' so yeah shit's not great down here. Things going any better at the top?"

"Alpha, Stalker, sounds like you've been through the wringer. I'll inform the site director immediately, don't worry this mission has gone to shit for NTF as well, they're not going to make it in time to secure 682 and some fucking D-class is running circles around them. It's looking increasingly likely the warhead may need to be armed. So, you don't have much time. I recommend double-timing it to the heavy containment zone as soon as possible. Finally, we think we managed to figure out who's fighting our remote access control, apparently, 079 might have managed to get access to the whole facility. So that's a thing…" A sigh was heard audible over the radio "I need to inform the director, I will be unavailable for some time, good luck. Stalker out."

"Well, as enlightening as that conversation was, it's time for us to head from the frying pan and into the fire. Jack, you've got one more chance, not because I want to give you a chance but because I have to. You're moving with us to the heavy containment zone and you're taking point." Files warned.

"Sir, yes sir." I said despondent, not at all in terms with the entire situation but knowing there is no going back now. Even my so-called allies would now ensure I stayed on the Foundation's wild ride.