The Chaos Insurgency

Prisoners

My feet shuffled this way and that as the intercom clicked off. Shouts of surprise and confusion erupted from within the prisoner, guards scrambling to the exit.

"Wait!" a voice rang out. "Some of us should stay behind. Only those of the mobile task force should go."

Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the vast room, the momentary panic and hysteria suspended.

"But we may need all the help we can get," one guard protested. "This is SCP 106 we are dealing with. It seems like Dr Tan's solution was ineffective."

"We can handle him fine," the first voice was unconcerned. "Let's see how much he likes electricity."

A chorus of laughs broke out amongst the amused guards as the mobile task force marched in perfect unison out of the prison. I peered out from behind the wall and watched the throng of heavily armed guards walk down the hallway with clunky footfalls in the direction Larry had went. In the distraction, I skidded on the slippery floor to the double doors. Quiet as a mouse and with my heart thumping wildly in my throat, I dashed into the room. To my unbelievable luck, the guard's attention was turned onto the flaming SCP which continued its frantic attempt to melt its prison away. The guards cackled at its desperation and hurled insults just giving me enough time to conceal myself behind crates of food for the starving prisoners. I became aware of my own hunger and thirst, my stomach painful and my tongue as dry as sandpaper. When was the last time I had eaten and drank? Fatigue was settling in and my injured arm complained from its overuse. The makeshift bandage I had wrapped around the bullet wound was becoming soaked with blood. If only I had asked for Dr Porter's help. But my mind had become too consumed by Larry's state.

I peered from the side of the crate to count my adversaries. Ten guards remained in total. I was easily underpowered with only two guns to complete the dirty work. But then, could I kill? Of course, I had just killed six people in the past two days without a second thought. Again, the questions surrounding my morality perked in my mind. Why I was becoming the very thing I had been sent to this place for? I was innocent of my best friend's murder but the same could not be said in regards to my previous behaviour. My once strong ego was depleting in light of the circumstances, a sense of shame seeping into every movement and thought. How could I continue breathing when I had sucked the breath and life from others? Looking at my enemies, it was obvious that their deaths would be necessary. I was going to have to kill again. With a regretful tear sliding down my face, I removed a gun from its holster and aimed. My sweaty finger rested on its trigger, the barrel aimed for the guard's chest. A silent apology had just passed my lips when I released the trigger, the bullet spiralling into its target. The sound of heavy armour was the only noise as the guard hit the floor, their soul ceasing to exist in the blink of an eye.

Bad idea, I immediately thought.

And I was right. Several pairs of eyes swivelled toward me through their visors. I had been spotted, too late to cover myself.

"It's Dr Erikson!" one guard stated the obvious.

"Kill him!" barked another, aiming their weapon.

With a shriek, I scrambled around on my hands and knees as the bullets came in a downpour. They struck the crates, splintered wood cascading to the floor. I was in a bad spot.

Out in the open and easy prey for their precise and perfect aim. The nine remaining guards crashed down the stairs, their guns firing in desperation. I crawled frantically, trying to distance myself from their fatal bullets. I felt a hand close around the fabric of my shirt and soon found myself staring into the eyes of a very furious guard. I stared the barrel of the gun, bracing myself for the launching of the bullet into my face. To my surprise, a black figure leapt onto the guard's back, snapping his neck cleanly before he could scream. I felt a sense of relief as Larry turned to face me, grinning at his kill.