Threat Assessment 3033
Official Unit Name: "Mike" Squad
Affiliation: Chaos Insurgency
Type: Shock Infantry
Threat Level: Orange
Composition: Up to 30 instances per one controller, deployed in company-strength.
Armament: Varies. See description.
Description: Instances are CI test subjects, implanted with invasive cranial implant enabling limited, rudimentary mind control, typically armed with small arms and hand-to-hand weapons, but will improvise as necessary. The only reliable ways of neutralizing an instance are the severance of the implant package, asphyxiation and exsanguination.
Tactics: As instances are indiscriminately violent, they are only deployed in large-scale engagements against large concentrations. Once deployed, they will use human-wave tactics in order to overwhelm defenders. The implant has difficulty controlling the fine motor skills required to operate firearms efficiently, and operators will generally push instances into close quarters combat.
Vulnerabilities: While instances will tolerate vast amounts of small arms fire, they possess no additional durability. If close combat is unavoidable, the use of large calibers, explosives, and other maiming/dismembering weapons is recommended. Instances also lack the ability to discern and avoid danger - if instances are expected to be used, the preemptive deployment of minefields may mitigate the risk entirely.

Never before had the halls of Site-79 seen so much blood.
Never before had Elizabeth Campbell ever had to actually break the glass in case of emergency.
Never before had she heard the phrases "Inner perimeter breached" or "Enact Protocol Makron".
And never before, had she ever been so alone.

"Welcome to your new job at Site-79. You've already had the whole song and dance about the whos, whats, and whys, so I'll try and keep this short. You're already fine managers, clerks, accountants, and whatever white-collar non-containment personnel you happen to be."
"The one thing I do need to go over is emergency procedures. Being a secure Foundation site, this is important. You've all had psychological evaluations - that's part of the reason you're here and not elsewhere. Also why you make hazard pay. You know the stakes, and what kind of 'emergencies' the Foundation experiences. The Foundation trusts you to do what is necessary, if and when the time comes."
"Before you ask - don't worry, there's nothing so silly as an onsite nuclear weapon. This isn't The Andromeda Strain. That'd cause too much collateral damage, not to mention geopolitical consequences. The Foundation is much more discrete."
"Spread throughout the facility are airtight blast doors and a large stock of VX. For you non-chemists, that's nerve gas. Like all chemical weapons, it's not pleasant, but at least it is fast-acting. The facility will seal, and it won't open again. VX concentration will reach well over lethal levels. The skips - what we're ultimately here for - will be secured."
"If site security is compromised - from within or without - so badly that upper command does not have a handle on the situation, and they don't think they ever will, they'll call out for a 'Protocol Makron'. If you hear these words, you are already dead where you stand. Or worse. Your only job from that point forward is to prevent it from getting worse for anyone out there."
"You can find emergency stations around the facility. They're reasonably well-dispersed. When you hear Protocol Makron, get to one of them. Punch the last five of your ID - I'm sure you all have them memorized by now - and make peace with yourself."

She had been wounded earlier. It wasn't clear whether it was a graze, a clean shot, or somewhere in between. Her progress was no faster than a limp.
She didn't know how much she had bled, or how much time she had left. Or if time was even an issue.
She didn't want to die. She'd never been religious, there was no afterlife waiting for her. She had never been married, or had kids, or been able to tell her parents goodbye or forgive her brother or find someone to watch her dogs. She had so much to live for, still. Only twenty-six with a good job and a stable life ahead of her. No one, other than coworkers, knew what she really did or where she really worked. She didn't even tell Brooke.
She would miss Brooke the most.
The emergency station. The glass was broken, but whichever poor soul had broken it had long since passed.
A croak from the floor. "I know what you're doing. Don't do it." She couldn't tell which of the fallen was attempting to speak. If any.
"It's what we're supposed to do."
"The CI already went through here. They have what they want. There is nothing to be gained by gassing the facility."
"It's what we're supposed to do. We have to contain-"
A rumbling from around the corner. Not close, but not far away.
"See, that's the cavalry right there."
A muffled snarl called that suggestion into doubt.
"Do you think O5, or the Site Director, gives a shit about you? You're probably a secretary or a-"
"I work in procurement, specializing i-."
"See, you're not worth anything to them. You don't have secret knowledge or skills. To them, you're as disposable as the D-class. An cog in the machine, a human fail-safe."
"No, you're - "
"Oh, I am too. Ethics Committee? They don't give a shit either. Their goals have always been the safety of those out there - don't you get it? We are the sacrificial lambs. Do you want to die, little lady?"
"I really, really don't. But I think we are both dead no matter what we do."
"I'd rather you not make decisions for both of us."
Snarls grew louder. They weren't far now.
"No one will remember you. You'll be a nameless body in an unremembered room."
She looked at down at the broken glass. 'Secure' had been shattered; 'Contain' was in pieces. Only 'Protect' was mostly intact.
"Be still. They won't attack if you look dead. We can still get out of this."
Propping herself up on the terminal, Elizabeth held her breath.