Ian Kyles was sitting in his cell. He had lived in Scotland before he'd been brought here, and he was a very active person. He didn't want to spend hours sitting doing nothing, but he honestly didn't have a choice. There wasn't much else to do in there, apart from read his one page D-class orientation sheet, which he had already done. Several times.

D-713239

That was his number. His name didn't matter anymore. Not to them.

They called this place 'The Foundation', or at least that was then name of the organisation that controlled it. He didn't know much else about it, other than they obviously had backing from someone seriously rich, and that their P.R. team was so bad, he had never even heard of them. Not even through some obscure, deep web creepypasta.

The most important thing he knew, however, was that he was scheduled to do some 'testing' with an 'SCP', which was information he had gleaned from pressing his ear against the wall of the vehicle he had been moved here in. Ian may not have been clear on the definition of the word 'testing' in this context, but he doubted this SCP was a delightfully colourful lipstick, or a cure for the common cold.

On top of that he didn't have a clue what an 'SCP' was either, or what 'SCP' even meant. He guessed it was some type of classification or an abbreviation of some kind. He was fairly certain the one he was testing with had been said with a number to define it, but he had missed that due to the fact that he didn't have super hearing.

This was just an assumption, but he had overheard some of the guards had been talking about an 'SCP-682' after he reached the place he was now being held. They had been discussing how it had "breached containment" a few weeks ago and killed a bunch of people. The phrase "it just wouldn't stop…" hardly instilled confidence in Ian that it was just a crazed criminal who'd broken out of prison, which he was starting to think he would prefer.

Whatever that 682 was, Ian just hoped that what he was up against wasn't as bad. It also worried him that there where at least 682 of these SCPs. Honestly, that worried Ian more than anything else. After all, that's a lot of possibly dangerous, hidden things that Ian knew nothing about and which he might have to get up close and personal with at some point.

He ran his hand through his hair as he sat in his room contemplating what the foundation planned to do with him. The room couldn't have been more than four meters wide at the most, with the bed, toilet, and sink there wasn't very much space to walk in and in total it was barely longer than five meters. However, it was certainly cleaner and more… sturdy than he had anticipated.

Speaking of sturdy, the sound of boots thundering uniformly down the hallway became more and more apparent as what Ian could assume was a guard patrolled the corridor outside the large metal door which kept him from freedom. As the sound neared, he changed his assumption. It was two guards, the sounds of the boots which usually stayed perfectly in sync where slightly off this time around.

Usually the sounds reverberated past his door and kept right on going, but this time they stopped in the space outside his door. There was a swipe, some beeping and a series of clunks before the door to his cell swung open. Into the doorway stepped a guard, which Ian had expected, who was heavily armed with a large assault rifle. There was another, similarly armed guard standing just behind his commanding officer.

This voice that followed carried a slightly American accent, which was all Ian could draw from the man, who was wearing full body armor. It was articulated in a way that brought the term "military precision" to mind.

"We've got some work for you. Follow me. I've been ordered to shoot any disobedient test subjects, so don't try anything."

As if they'd shoot him… They had tried before. And it wasn't even the worst thing they had done. All the injections they had given him in the first few days had given him a horrible headache, but had had ultimately no effect. So instead they tried to kill him. He didn't know how, or why, but every time they tried to terminate him something went wrong.

Guns jammed. Knives snapped. Machines broke. And no matter what the foundation tried... they just couldn't kill him! And it truly scared him that these people wanted him dead so badly. Honestly he was starting to develop a bit of an immortality complex out of all of this. He was hardly intimidated by these guards, who he gathered were here to take him to SCP something or other. He once again found himself wondering what it was exactly that he was off to test with.

Whatever it was, Ian wanted out of that room... even if it meant going to another room with the possibly dangerous something or other. He nodded and stood up, slightly slower than he would normally.

This was for two reasons. One, he had been sitting down for hours, and two, he didn't want to startle the guard behind the one in the doorway into raising the alarm. The man looked a bit jittery, Ian could tell this, even through the armor. No doubt they had been told about the 'guns don't work on him' situation, and the nervous man was worried that he would try to kill them… for some reason, even though Ian wasn't exactly muscular… or tall.

"He looks like a rookie. The way he holds himself and how he's handling his gun is different from the other guards I've seen. He must not be used to wearing that equipment for a long time yet. He's definitely new here." Ian thought to himself, as he often did, while he slowly walked forward. The guard at the door moved out of the way to let him pass and the nervous guard led the way. He was walked down the corridor, which seamed longer than it had been when he had been brought in. Once they reached its end, they turned a corner and continued on through a few tunnels and over a few catwalks, and Ian noticed that all the way the second guard kept glancing over his shoulder at Ian. The Scotsman noticed this behavior and decided to think about the implications of it. After all, walking without thinking seemed a little pointless to him.

"That guys awfully paranoid. Perhaps he's been here longer than I thought. There are some odd scrapes on his amour... like he was attacked by a wild animal... a big one... recently, poor guy. Maybe it was one of those SCP things. No wonder he so jumpy... if he was attacked by something that could make a mark like THAT." Ian thought as he examined three large claw marks that ran diagonally down the soldiers back.

The marks weren't very deep, but some force seemed to have been put into the blow. It would have given the guard more than a little fright. He almost felt scared for this guy by association. Ian's newly formed inferiority complex hadn't yet encapsulated things like wolves or bears. Or in the case, what appeared to be dragon-bears.

The first guard had been trailing Ian the whole way and he seemed to be getting annoyed by the second guard's shifty behavior. This was confirmed when he spoke again, which startled the second soldier. "God damn it private! You don't need to keep looking at him! He's not going to grow claws and cut your head off! Keep your eyes forward!" The second guard straightened up immediately and fixed his eyes straight ahead.

"Y-yes sir!" He replied. He definitely sounded younger than Ian expected... around 17 or 18, give or take a year. Ian didn't have much time to ponder about the two guards as they soon arrived at their destination.