1 - Trade Gone Wrong - 1

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"No," (y/n) whispered to themselves, glaring at the paper held in their trembling hands. "No, no, no, no, no!"

They slammed the paper down on the metallic desk, quickly rummaging other files to deny their observation. However, no matter which file they opened, all the papers were labeled with the same symbol.

"SCP? That SCP?" (y/n) said, blanking out in disbelief.

This was horrendous. Yes, they wished to go to whatever dimension except for the one they were in, but they didn't want to go in a dimension with SCPs!

"That fucking demon!" they yelled, banging their fist on the desk.

As if in sync, the alarm bells started blaring off, just like they did a few minutes prior.

"All surviving personnel is to head to Unit 5. All surviving personnel is to head to Unit 5. MTF-Omega 3 has the clearance to eliminate all life within Unit 2, containment breached."

"What the fuck does that mean?!" (y/n) yelled towards the speaker in the room.

The announcement basically said to head to Unit 5, or die. Where even was Unit 5?

"Get your shit together, (y/n)" they said to themselves, continuing to dig around the paper-filled desk. Maybe there was a map of the facility somewhere.

Clank!

(y/n) froze at the sound of eerie footsteps right beyond the door. They covered their nose and mouth to silence their breathing, getting faster with each step. Thankfully, the footstep carried on, until (y/n) couldn't hear it anymore.

"Lord fucking god have mercy," (y/n) blabbered, picking up their pace. There were pages and pages of research data and hypotheses, but no signs of a map.

"Damn it!" they whispered, grabbing at their hair. There was no other choice now - they had to randomly wander to find Unit 5.

"Okay, I got this," (y/n) said, taking out the identity card they found a while back. When the card was placed on a sensor, the metal doors slid open with a beep.

The scenery outside was far worse than any horror movie (y/n) watched. The hallways were dimly lit, only allowing selective vision up to 5 steps ahead. The concrete walls were carved, bashed in, or slashed at, making the corridors full of dangerous, sharp rubble.

"...I don't got this," (y/n) concluded, gripping onto the card key for dear life. This was the only thing (y/n) had to get to Unit 5.

With a final swallow of nerves, (y/n) was off on the journey to find Unit 5, hopefully (and quite unlikely) not dying in the process.

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