It was supposed to be just another recon mission in another Nowhere Town, USA. Just yet another outing for this squad of hazmat wearing soldiers who were members of MTF Beta-7.
Now, you may be asking 'What in the hell is MTF Beta-7' and Connor Johnson would promptly smash your face in before making it seem like whatever you heard was due to you either being incredibly drunk or having consumed an immense supply of LSD.
But as I was saying, this mission was just meant to be a recon in the backcountry's backcountry of the good ol' Uncle Sam. Yet, as I'm sure you have caught on by now, it was not yet another easy mission.
Some unknown virus had been terrorizing this town, and rumors of its peculiar effects had been making its rounds around the surrounding area. Luckily, or unluckily, these rumors were quickly hushed by a shadowy organization known as the SCP Foundation.
Now, if you were to ask Connor Johnson what the SCP Foundation was, well, just refer to paragraph two of this fine chapter.
Well then, back to Connor Johnson and his current mission. Connor Johnson, with the current callsign of "Butter-boy", was stalking the seemingly abandoned and derelict streets. Suddenly, one of his fellow squad mates, with the callsign of "Patty-Cakes", spoke and said in his iconic Southern accent "Weren't this place supposed to have only been infected three months ago? This is a lot of damnable damage for only three months."
And he was right. These streets seemed to be the type you would find in the apocalypse shows on every other channel. Trash everywhere, weeds and grass poking through cracked expanses of road. The buildings either boarded and damaged, or just plain damaged.
A voice replied, belonging to a Jamaican woman with the callsign of "Happee", "Yes, but depending on the traits of this anomaly it may be able to do more than just infect people."
Butter-boy replied "You think those scientists will label it like they do everything else?"
A new voice spoke this time, belonging to a rather short, balding man with a rather thick New-York accent who had the callsign of "Brooks", "Most likely if it isn't something they had seen before."
Brooks was the most senior member of the squad and had been part of the security of some Site before he made a critical mistake and was put here on the worse squad of Beta-7 as punishment. It was either that, or something worse.
But he wasn't the squad-leader. No, that esteemed position belonged to a redhead woman with more scars than brain cells. But despite having the personality skills of a blood covered knife, she was efficient and had a borderline unnatural sense for danger and things of that nature. Her callsign was "Fyre". Possibly spelled that way to make it cooler than just Fire.
She said in her accent that seemed to be more American than whatever it used to be "That isn't our job. Focus on the task at hand."
She then spoke "Jared, how far away are we to Squad 7's previous known rendezvous point?"
An androgynous sounding British individual spoke to them through their ear pieces.
"Hmm, roughly eight hundred and four meters away."
Patty-Cakes soon replied "In the American numbers, tea boy."
Jared was silent for a few moments before Fyre urged him to just do it.
Jared audibly sighs and states "Half a mile away."
Butter-boy could clearly tell underneath the armored hazmat that Patty-Cakes was wearing a massive smirk. For some odd reason, Patty-Cakes disliked Jared. Often using the fact that Jared is from Britain as a way to try to humiliate the poor guy. Butter-boy knew that Patty-Cakes could've used other things to humiliate Jared. Maybe he just dislikes the British in general?
Fyre stopped their advance and turned around to face the group. She looked at each of them. Scrutinized all of them with her veteran gaze. She always had a habit of making sure her squad mates were ready. A habit forged from surviving the worst squad in Beta-7 for many years. A habit that has kept her and some of her squad mates alive.
Fyre spoke in a serious tone that let the squad know it was truly go time.
"Squad 19, Formation 32-7"
The "formations" was something Fyre came up with to try to keep her squad alive. She constantly updated it and drilled it into her squad. Formation 32 is when the squad enters a type of curved arrowhead formation meant to allow for quick sighting of possible hostiles. The 7 after the 32 is how many times it has been needed to change do to a squad mate dying and having to be replaced.
Squad 19 promptly got into Formation 32-7. They knew to listen to Fyre. Luckily for the squad their newest member, Butter-boy, wasn't an arrogant little brat. A problem that Fyre has had to deal with many times. Even before she became squad leader.
Squad 19 pressed forward towards Squad 7's last rendezvous point. A rather secured police station with high walls, a generator, a rather high-tech gate and several cameras that were supposedly still working.
But, when Squad 19 arrived Fyre quickly said "Formation 11-7."
Which was a much tighter double-headed arrowhead formation that still allowed decent mobility and also allowed the squad to quickly evacuate themselves.
The reason why they had to go into that formation? Well, the thick, electronic steel gate was ripped in half and a member of Squad 7 could be seen dead a few feet away. Well, at least the upper half of them.
Squad 19 went into Formation 11-7 and began to carefully get close enough to the dead member of Squad 7. But once they got close enough, the dead Squad 7 member began to twitch and slowly crawl towards them.
Patty-cakes yelped "Jesus H. Christ in a handbasket!"
Jared's soothing voice spoke to them and said "I did not expect that. Luckily for you all, I have high clearance to quite a bit of the Foundation's data. The only reason I am even in thi-"
Fyre's rather demanding voice said "Jared, what do we do?"
Jared then quickly said "Damage its head and brain to an efficient state."
Fyre grabbed what appeared to be a short metallic rod that quickly elongated into a metallic bo staff. Fyre was at the front arrowhead and quickly told the squad through hand signs that she was going to take care of it.
And she then proceeded to rather skillfully bash its head in so that it looked more like a nice meaty spaghetti sauce then anything resembling a human's head.
"Squad 19, new orders. Collect a sample and use the ADTS Box" quickly spoke Jared.
Fyre then said "Squad 19, Formation 5-7"
A Formation meant specifically for the ADTS Box, or the Advanced Data Transfer System Box. It was a nifty piece of tech that allowed a rather quick and well detailed scan of a sample and then promptly sent it to whoever was watching over the squad from afar. In this case this person was Jared.
Happee quickly got to work since she was the one with the most skills with the ADTS Box. A few disgusting sounds and syringes later, she began to process the samples with the ADTS Box.
A few minutes go by and Jared says "Got the scans. Checking them now."
A very audible sound of confusion and slight panic was heard and then Jared with a rather robotic tone, almost as if trying not to show any emotion in his voice, simply stated
"That's not the 008 I know of."