With a lit cigarette hung between his lips, Wilson sat upon one of the seats of the tram as it steadily drove itself about the webbing of tunnels snaking through an underground containment facility. As always, a bitter irritation poisoned his mind. This time, it was because of he had just gotten out of his infirmary stay after a minor breach, and not even a day later he's already back to escorting Class-D's to Hell, like a River of Styx ferryman. A still fresh bite mark settled under a tight hug of gauze, which itself was underneath one of his sleeves.
The tram halted and Wilson wasted no time storming out, stamping on the smoke in his march through the halls. He had finally arrived to the Cell Block the PA assigned him to. As he expected, his partner beat him to the cell, not that it was a race to begin with. An unfamiliar man of similar attire, but much taller and bulkier and without a spot of headwear, revealing a well-tanned face draped in caramel hair. That wasn't the first thing Wilson noticed, however. That honor belonged to his soul's windows, a pair of unnatural scarlet eyes to match Wilson's piercing green ones. He had also been staggered by the MTF insignia on one of the shoulders of his black and navy fatigues instead of a Security one. --Fireworks888 (talk) 17:17, December 16, 2017 (UTC)
The occasional bang of fist against the metal walls reverberated through the hallways. Gale felt his ear perk every so often at the din, but faded quickly into the background of his perception. Fingering the gun, feeling the lighter weight of this weapon, feeling less comfortable with this, the thoughts drifting off...
The click of boots in rhythm snapped Gale's attention back. He very nearly went to check his watch, but thought better of it. He couldn't hold back a slight head tilt as he inspected the soldier coming his way. A more athletically formed man in security force uniform and holding a countenance letting everyone know how little disrespect can reach this man before he does something he won't regret.
He realised the head tilt didn't go unnoticed, so he went with a grin, ''"Gale; good to have another hard-ass. I'm sure you and our resident D-Class will be good friends.''--~~~
Wilson didn't want any banter to make this longer than it needed to be, so he ignored the MTF soldier as he fished a keycard out from his utility belt and slid it into the cell's door lock.
"Alright," the man sighed at his friendliness getting shot down.
The hefty sheet of metal swooped open as the keycard had ordered it to unveil a heavily tattooed man, brawny body in nothing more than an orange jumpsuit, cowering in the shadows of his small prison.
"They have some work for you," Wilson coldly recited that same obligatory speech as he brandished his P90. "Please step out of the cell."
"Oh, no, NO NO NO NO NO!" the man fearfully screamed, skittering off his bed and into the corner like a scared-to-death child. "If you're taking me back to that fucking monster you can go ahead and shoot me now!"
"Oh, for God's sake, we're taking you to a fucking sheet of paper, now don't make me come in there," Wilson barked, not in the mood for another hysterical D.
The inmate walked out, shaking all over. Despite this, there was a way in which he glanced around that had Gale wary. Criminals are never consistently stupid, but it's rare to find one that was more careful as this.
"The guard's right... Wilson, eh? Anyways, follow your guard. I'll follow suit.
With that, the patrol formed and moved: Wilson heading, the Class-D glancing around carefully, and Gale backing in with a tinge of worry about this man. Whatever attempts that were being made to mask his perception were of little avail, it was almost quite obvious due to his whole head moving rather than just his eyes.
The patrol moved through the corridors, snaking around bends and pushing through many different doors. They saw the labs and offices pass by as they went onward towards the test at hand: SCP-012. --~~~
Labcoats, technicians, and fellow kevlars busily buzzed about the many corridors and catwalks the escort traced through. The bore started to make Wilson's teeth grind so he motioned his partner up into comfortable chatting distance, hoping some small-talk would make the walk go by faster.
"So, what's a big bad MTF commando doing a prison guard's dirty work for?" he asked, eyeing the soldier's insignia.
Gale managed a grin at having this interaction, "Some Class-D are just a little more... temperamental than others. This one is also a bit intelligent. Also, I don't really have much to do anyways. You're always alone, I think It's a win-win, don't ya think?"
"You one of those weak links deployed in for extra muscle?"
"A squad's only as strong as its weakest link, Wilson. The MTF are positioned as such for a reason, but I'd like to think I'm not."
"We all like to think a lot of things in a place like this."
"Helps when you get out at times to put those opinions to the test. You should try applying yourself, Wilson."
"Think I threw you a bone and picked your banter back up to get lec-"
Wilson stopped mid-sentence upon realizing his ears were only picking up two sets of footsteps once they got into the more desolate parts of the facility. He and Gale twisted around in unison and sure enough, the D was almost out of the hall they were in. Gale instinctively unloaded a good bit of his magazine at the escapee, but each and every bullet just barely missed upon the turn of a corner, shredding the white plaster off the wall.
Neither Gale nor Wilson were allowed the amazement of their following actions. The switch flipped, and the two were like wolves after a lone deer. The lack of nearby guards didn't help, but considering it was two against one, Gale decided he and Wilson could do this.
"All personnel, this is Gale Tumblers, currently in pursuit of a feral D-Class heading towards..." The two rounded a corner, just fast enough to see their deer stumble into a larger room with stairs heading down... "He's going underground where the last containment breach failed. I'm with Taylor Wilson from security forces. I need someone quick, god knows what the hell is still down here... STOP!!"
The D-Class managed a sure foot and turned to another doorway to the left. His breathe caught as the walls next to him splintered and exploded. Wilson was getting closer, and Gale was falling back if only to aim.
"Sgt, this is head of security Donald Prinore. Command needs that D-Class, but It's your choice whether you continue. The area you're heading in is unexplored since the last breach. You'd best le-"
"We're pursuing, just send someone already!"
"... Alright, keep an eye out. We're sending Epsilon 9 down there for the main problem. Catch that D-Class quick before you encounter anything more serious? Prinore out" --~~~~