Nobody Came to Help - SCP Foundation

"Why can't we just leave this damn place to guard itself!" is probably what anyone else would say if they did my job. Sitting and watching security footage for 15 hours a day isn't the most exciting task, especially since barely anything ever happens around here. I mean, who would be stupid enough to try and break into the Foundation's very own maximum security prison? I'm damn sure this place could guard itself and be twice as efficient as we are! Personally, I think it's bullshit that they even have as many of us here as they do, considering we have hyper-intelligent artificial intelligence already monitering every inch of this place.

I turn away from the dozen or so monitors flashing with fluorescent light and humming with a low buzz, swiveling in my chair. Curling the tissue that I had just used to wipe some spilled water, I squint slightly as I toss it in the direction of the waste bin. The tissue tumbles through the air, misses the basket completely, and joins more than a dozen other crumpled pieces of trash. Sighing, I keep looking at the now almost deflated piece of tissue. It almost looks like it's frowning at me.

Just then, I hear footsteps in the hallway. Swiveling back to face the monitors, I hear the light ping of the keybind and the metalic door sliding open. I turn to the door, feigning ignorance, and greet Jefferson.

"Jeff! It's been a while. How's the job? How's the family?"

"Sam, I saw you an hour ago." He glances at the wastebasket and gives me an unamused look after seeing the trash. "You know it's rude to leave trash on the floor. More work for the janitor, you know?"

"Well," I reply, turning back to face the monitors, just to see absolutely nothing happening. "Have you seen the guy?"

"No," Jeff admits.

"The guy's a ghost. I swear he gets the whole place cleaned up no matter how bad the mess is." I lean forward in my chair to grab the half-drunk bottle of water and down the rest. "Remember the prison escape attempt a few years ago? I swear the floors were shinier after he mopped up all the blood."

"Still," Jeff says, crossing his arms. "Show some more respect."

"Okay, okay." I get up and make my way to the waste bin, slowly picking up each piece of trash with the tips of my fingers and dropping them one by one into the bin, making sure to take as long as possible before turning back. "Happy?"

Jeff shakes his head, a small smile forming. "You never change, do you, Sam?"

"Why would I? The excitement of this job is more than enough for me," I say with a smirk, turning back to my monitors.

"Well, the site director wants you to go to the entrance and do check-ins for a bit." Jeff sits on the counter, gazing absentmindedly at the monitors as he speaks. "I'm taking over for the next while."

I jolt up suddenly. No way does Jefferson get to take away my job. "What? That's bullshit."

Jeff turns to me slightly, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, we both know you can't look at all of this at once. You'd fall asleep," I wave at the flashing monitors.

"Well-" I interupt before he can continue.

"And plus, how did the check-in system break? Didn't we install it just so we wouldn't have to constantly have someone stationed there? What's the point of having these damn cards," I pull at my lanyard, "if the system doesn't even work?"

Sighing and getting off the counter, Jefferson looks at me with an almost exhausted expression. "I'm just doing as I was told. If you have any complaints, go talk to the boss. But for now," he gestures to the door, "I think you should go to your new station."

"Fine." I grumble under my breath as I gathered my things and headed out the door. Walking out, I hear the door slide shut behind me and I turn to look at the hallway that seemingly stretches for miles. Well no point in just standing around, might as well start walking.

As I make my way through the corridors, I can't help but sigh as I pass through the layers of security. Every door requires multiple forms of identification to access, constant cameras are scanning the hallways as I move. Periodically I'll see guards pass by, on their patrols, and completely ignore that I was even there.

Finally, I reach the entrance checkpoint. It's a small booth with bulletproof glass and a console that controls the gate. I slump into the chair and put on the headset, staring out at the empty hallway in front of me.

"Great," I mutter to myself. "Stuck here doing check-ins while Jeff gets to watch the monitors. What a joke."

Resting my head against the desk in front of me, I look up, searching for something to occupy my time. Scanning the small space, I see absolutely nothing and sigh as I pull out a small coin from my pocket and begin to flip it.

Time passes slowly in my new, hopefully temporary, station when a sharp rapping on the window jolts me awake. I must have dozed off. Rubbing my eyes, I look up to find the source of the noise. I notice a man standing outside the booth, wearing a black coat and… a fedora?

"Um, credentials?" I mumble, still rubbing my eyes as if trying to clear away the lingering drowsiness. The man slides his identification through the small slot. I glance at it, my vision still slightly blurred.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" the man asks, his voice calm and almost soothing. "You look like you've had a rough day."

"Yeah, just… not used to this station," I reply, trying to shake off the grogginess. "Got bumped from my usual post."

The man nods sympathetically. "That sounds frustrating. Did they just replace you without any warning?"

"Pretty much," I say, feeling the frustration bubble up again. "Jefferson just waltzed in and took over my spot. I know he's going to mess up my routine."

"Sounds like you got a raw deal," the man continues, leaning in slightly. "You ever think about complaining to the director? I mean, you deserve better treatment than this."

I scoff, "Yeah, right. The director doesn't care about us grunts. We're basically D-Class to him."

"That's the problem," he says. "Too many people let themselves be pushed around. If you don't stand up for yourself, who will? You should go tell the director exactly how you feel."

I hesitate, glancing down at the credentials in my hand. "I don't know… what if I get in trouble?"

"Trust me," the man says, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "If you don't stand up now, they'll just keep walking all over you. Go on, I'll wait here. You deserve to be heard."

Reluctantly, I find myself nodding. I hand the man back his credentials, barely glancing at them in my distracted state. "Alright, maybe you're right. I'll go talk to the director."

"Good man," the stranger says, stepping aside to let me pass. "You go take care of business."

I head down the hall, my heart pounding with a mix of nerves and anger. Behind me, the man in the fedora watches me go, a satisfied expression on his face.

"You know, the man was right," I mutter to myself as I walk down the hallway. "The director has been treating us like crap for ages now. He can't just reassign me to a completely different position because of a stupid system malfunction."

I turn the corner and see the first of many checkpoints I'll have to pass through. I stop, sighing as I search for my keycard in my pockets. Odd, I can't seem to find it. I dig into my back pockets, but still nothing. I curse under my breath. I must have left it in the check-in booth. Another thing to complain to the director about—the long-ass walk to everything.

I turn back when I see two guards on their patrol coming around the corner. My lucky day.

I wave to them, signaling them to come over. "Hey, I'm really sorry, but I left my keycard back in the check-in booth and I really need to speak to the director."

The guards exchange glances. "You sure you work here?" one of them asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I can do the biometric tests to prove it," I insist. "I really need to talk to the director about something important."

The other guard sighs, pulling out a handheld scanner. "Alright, put your hand on here."

I place my hand on the scanner, and it beeps, confirming my identity. The guard reluctantly hands me his keycard. "Just make sure to return this, alright?"

"Absolutely," I nod, taking the keycard and hurrying off. As I walk to the director's office, I rehearse what I'm going to say in my head. This time, he's going to hear me out. No more getting pushed around.

As I get closer, I start to notice some peculiarities. The lights flicker slightly, and the cameras seem to jam before coming back online. It's unsettling, but I push it to the back of my mind, focusing on my mission.

Finally, I reach the director's office and knock on the door. "Come in," a voice calls.

I push the door open and step inside. "Director, we need to talk."

He looks up from his desk, surprised. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at your station?"

"That's what I need to talk about," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "You can't just reassign me without any notice. I've been doing my job perfectly well, and now you're just throwing me into a different position because of a system malfunction?"

The director sighs, rubbing his temples. "Look, it's not my fault the system went offline. We had to make adjustments."

"But you didn't even give me a heads-up," I argue. "I've been stuck at that boring booth while Jefferson gets to sit in my spot and—"

"Who's manning the check-in booth right now?" the director interrupts, a frown forming on his face.

"Someone's there," I assure him, but before I can elaborate, the lights suddenly go off and alarms begin to blare.

Panic floods through me as the director stands up, his face pale. "We need to secure the facility. Now."

I swing open the door and am immediately assaulted by the sounds of distant gunshots and rushing footsteps. "What's happening?" I shout to the director over the cacophony of security personnel rushing down the hallways.

The director, glued to his tablet, curses as a bright red light flashes across the screen. "All systems are down!"

"Down? As in gone, not coming back?"

"Yes." The director desperately tries to get his computer to turn on. "The power's cut, backup generators are down, and we're not getting anything from the perimeter team. From what I can tell, they've also managed to disable the AI system and are jamming all communications going outside the site."

The director pulls out a device that looks like a USB stick and jams it haphazardly into his computer, causing it to suddenly flash on. He turns to me. "Call Jefferson and tell him to lock down the site."

I grab my phone and try to call Jefferson, but there's no response. "I can't reach him," I say, panic creeping into my voice.

The director's face hardens. "Then run to the monitor room and do it yourself. Now!"

In a panic, I begin sprinting toward the monitor room. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did it have to be here of all places? Who are these people? As I run, I keep seeing more streams of security personnel and hearing equally as much gunfire in the distance. Looking up, I finally see the monitor room but strangely notice that the door is open.

Bursting in the room, I expected to see Jefferson. Instead, I see the man from earlier—the one in the black coat and fedora. My mind races as I try to process this.

"What are you doing here?" I demand.

"I heard the alarms and rushed away from where all the guards were running. I ended up here," he replies calmly.

"Have you seen Jefferson?" I ask, suspicion in my voice.

"No, I didn't see anyone when I entered."

I roughly push the man aside and hurry to the control panel, frantically typing in the password to access the system. The man keeps asking questions, his voice a persistent buzz in my ear.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to lock down the site," I snap, my fingers flying over the keyboard. "Just stay out of the way."

As I finally get the system open, ready to initiate the lockdown, I feel a sharp pain at the back of my head. My vision blurs, and I collapse to the floor, consciousness slipping away. The last thing I see is the man standing over me, a cold smile on his face.

I watch as the man, Sam, falls limply onto the ground after I struck the back of his head. I almost pity him; he would never know that he caused all of this to happen. I bend down and pick up the small transmitter I had attached to his shirt when I leaned in to talk to him. Bringing it up to my eye, I admire the handiwork of the factory: state of the art, a device that infects nearby devices with a virus that disables software. Usually, it wouldn't be very effective in breaking into a Foundation prison complex; the security measures in place would prevent any infections from getting too far. But with Sam's help…

I look down at the crumpled form of the man. His little trip to the site director's office had infected enough devices to make it impossible to prevent the virus from spreading. I chuckle lightly as I pull out the keycard I had swiped and scan it on the access panel, releasing the Chaos Insurgency's top operatives. All guards should be too engaged with the mercenary forces outside, and by the time they realize what's happened, the extraction team I had set up should have done their job.

Hearing a cluttering sound, I turn to see someone walking out, covered in soot, from one of the storage lockers in the room. I spread my arms as I walk toward him. “Jefferson! It’s been so long since I’ve last seen you. How long has it been since I asked you to work here? Ten years?”

He gives me a quick glance as he makes his way toward Sam.

“Ah yes, make sure to delete the security footage too.” I note as I begin making my way out of the room.

Jefferson nods and continues on without speaking. I crane my head slightly to watch Jefferson work, he's always amazed me with his effeciency. I do find it a bit humorous that when Sam next wakes up, he’ll be considered the top suspect. I mean, his keycard was used to release the top Chaos Insurgency agents held at the site. He was found lying unconscious next to a bruised and bloody Agent Jefferson, and he was the last one seen with the site director, who was found shot in his office with a gun on the table covered in Sam’s fingerprints.

Ah yes, I better get to that last part. As I walk out of the monitor room, I hear thuds against the wall and small groans. Must be Jefferson making the act seem more… convincing.

While walking, I can’t help but look at the walls. Not that there’s anything I don’t know on them. I can practically visualize the entire site and all its staff moving about its little hallways in a panic, completely accurately. No, I can’t help but wonder how anyone works in this damned place. It’s like a morgue or a psych ward that stretches on for a mile. Looking up, I see a camera seemingly jammed at a 60-degree angle, meaning the next turn would lead to the site director's office, which also means two guards would be running to the director’s office directly behind me about… now. I turn and draw my weapon to see two guards emerge from a corner. I fire two bullets, each landing squarely in their temples causing both to instantly fall to the ground limp. Instead of holstering the weapon, I keep it drawn as I approach the office and slowly open the door to peek inside.

Just as predicted, the director is frantically trying to get help from the outside, typing with such fervor. I stand there for a while, reading his fingers, before I decide to interrupt his little escapade. I hum, causing him to look up momentarily, which I use to fire two bullets—one to his shoulder, the other through his eye, causing him to keel over and collapse. I approach his desk and grab the small USB stick from his computer before emptying the rest of the rounds into his body. I have about two minutes to make my way to the extraction point before one of the guards runs across the director’s office looking for his good luck charm he left in the locker room. I place the gun, covered in Sam’s fingerprints and not my own—I don’t have fingerprints— on the desk and stroll out of the office.

Stretching slightly, I continue humming as I make my way toward the extraction point. A good operation always feels pleasant. While walking, I think back to the expression the director had before he spotted me. He was sending a message to the O5s, but why that expression? It clicks, they had assigned him a job previously, and he must have failed them. Probably why he seemed so desperate—he knew they wouldn’t accept another failure. Well, lucky for him, now he wouldn’t have to report back to the O5s about his most recent failure.

Behind me, I hear the cries of a voice; they’ve found the director’s body just as expected. I smile as I turn the corner to see around a dozen or so men in D-class personnel jumpsuits, accompanied by five other men in Foundation vests and tactical gear, who all salute me. Nobody had come to save him.