The thought of letting SCP-173 escape flashed through Luo Shu's mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
If the Site Director found out that Luo Shu—SCP-173's designated caretaker—had even considered such a reckless idea, he'd personally execute him on the spot.
Only someone mentally compromised by memetics or a spy from the Chaos Insurgency would do something so insane!
Luo Shu wasn't that far gone.
His idea was more controlled: let SCP-173 briefly breach containment, then re-contain it himself.
That way, he could reactivate the neck-snap ability.
But there was no rush.
At his core, Luo Shu was still just an ordinary guy from another world.
He wasn't eager for violence.
The SCP Foundation's world was already too intense—he needed time to adjust.
If possible, he'd rather avoid killing.
Even though he'd snapped that bald D-class's neck in self-defense, it had haunted him for nights.
Now, after being healed by the adorable Eye-Pods and narrowly escaping SCP-055, he felt…
Maybe this world wasn't so bad.
At least the Foundation researchers cooing over the Eye-Pods were easy on the eyes.
And despite his bright orange jumpsuit, they didn't shun him like the other D-class.
Partly because he wasn't as rough-looking as the actual murderers.
Partly because he'd saved the Eye-Pods from SCP-055.
The two little creatures bounced around him happily, squeaking like excited pets.
The researchers, charmed, treated him more kindly by association.
After some light chatting, Luo Shu headed to the D-class cafeteria for lunch.
The mood shift was jarring.
From warm, lively researchers to a room full of hardened criminals.
Then he felt it—a gaze full of malice.
He turned, but no one stood out.
Just as he dismissed it, a white inmate looked up from his meal, staring at Luo Shu's back.
The man stabbed his fork into a tough pork chop with unnecessary force.
There it was again.
Luo Shu whirled around—still no obvious culprit.
But he knew it wasn't his imagination.
He mentally reviewed everyone he'd interacted with since arriving at Site-19.
Area █████? Unlikely. Everyone there had amnestics administered.
Plus, he'd worn a concealing helmet the whole time—only the bearded commander knew his face.
That bastard.
The whole "Crimson Bride escape" had been a loyalty test.
Anyone unfamiliar with the Foundation's tricks might've fallen for her act and died.
I'll remember that, Commander. Payback's coming.
Back at Site-19, the possible suspects narrowed down to:
The lunch lady (unlikely—she still gave him extra meat).
The D-class who gave up his seat (no hard feelings there).
The female D-class he'd "romanced" (she'd been brainwashed into silent devotion).
That left one person.
The bald man's "brother."
The one who'd exposed Luo Shu's lie.
Of course.
Most D-class wouldn't care about one more dead inmate.
But family? That was different.
And in a place like this, grudges were deadly.
In San Quentin, prisoners killed each other over less.
A stolen fork could be a shiv.
A split-second distraction could be fatal.
Site-19's security was lax compared to real prisons.
No one would notice a missing utensil.
Luo Shu's instincts sharpened.
He might be from another world, but this body had killer instincts.
If he found the threat first, he'd strike first.
Problem was—he didn't know who the brother was.
D-class all looked equally dangerous.
He couldn't preemptively eliminate a threat he couldn't identify.
Defense wasn't enough.
He needed offensive power.
I need SCP-173's ability back.
His gaze drifted toward SCP-173's containment unit.
A decision solidified in his mind.
Alright, Peanut.
Time to run.