thinking about d-class in the scp foundation. you’re doomed from the beginning. no amount of intellect or skill will help you in the face of world-ending horrors, and the people around you who do know what they’re doing won’t care to save you unless it benefits them. you’re treated as expendable, even less of a person than a canary in the coal mine. and because of what? because you did something—something unforgivable, presumably. whether or not you had a good reason, if you regretted it or if you’d do it all over again if you got the chance, the foundation doesn’t care, it offered you a second chance all the same. you were going to die anyways, you thought, might as well take a chance. you should have known there were fates worse than death.

since taking that deal, you’ve had your name stolen from you. probably not in the anomalous sense unless you’re one of the unlucky ones, but they’ve replaced it with a serial number that’s long, unwieldy, and dehumanizing. it’s easier for them to condemn you to horrors beyond imagination if they never have to know your name, if they never have to acknowledge that you are (were?) a human being with thoughts and feelings. oftentimes the things these people do in the name of the “greater good” are even worse than whatever you did to get in this situation in the first place, but that never stops them from calling themselves humanity’s saviors while using you as a lab rat. they will stop at nothing to secure, contain, protect, and you will be caught in the crossfire.

will they even let you out if you somehow survive? how long have you really been here?