As Luo Shu faced Marion Wheeler's gun, Site-19 was on high alert.
Every speaker in the facility blared the same warning on loop:
"WARNING! WARNING! SUSPECTED EXTERNAL INTRUSION! ALL PERSONNEL, EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS!"
"INTRUDER WEARS D-CLASS ORANGE. SUSPECTED SCP-173 OR SPATIAL-TELEPORTATION ABILITIES!"
"ALL NON-D-CLASS PERSONNEL: ENACT TIER-4 SECURITY MEASURES. NO GROUP SMALLER THAN THREE. ISOLATED PERSONNEL, REGROUP IMMEDIATELY!"
"ALL D-CLASS: REMAIN IN PLACE FOR ID VERIFICATION. RESISTANCE WILL BE MET WITH TERMINATION!"
The disparity in orders showed how little the Foundation valued D-Class lives.
They denied D-Class even the right to move to safety, despite the risks of isolation.
The Director's Office
In the Site Director's office, defenses were maximized.
As an A-Class non-combatant, the director was heavily guarded.
His office walls were now electrified, forming an equipotential shield to deter low-tier spatial abilities.
Inside, three security officers stood in a triangle formation—but unlike typical bodyguards, they faced inward, ensuring every angle was covered.
This was Site-19's Tier-4 protocol, refined after years of SCP-173 breaches.
On the wall, live feeds from surveillance played via projector.
The director's focus was on the D-Class cafeteria, where guards cross-referenced each prisoner with the roster.
One reckless D-Class ignored orders, still eating at a table and complaining:
"Can't even eat in peace with all this crap!"
When told to line up against the wall, he refused—so a guard shot him in the head.
Brains and blood splattered the table like sauce.
The two corpses (the other being the white supremacist who attacked Luo Shu) ensured full compliance.
Satisfied, the director shifted attention to other feeds:
Sublevel-1: Mostly empty. Non-essential staff had evacuated or regrouped.
Sublevel-2 Labs: Researchers huddled in threes, vigilant. The SCP-173 breach ten days ago had taught them caution.
Sublevel-3: Peaceful. Safe-class anomalies undisturbed.
Sublevel-4: The SCP-173 containment team was paranoid, staring at shadows. If 173's still contained, what the hell's teleporting around?
At the Sublevel-1 stairwell, the Epsilon-11 commander briefed his squad:
"Teams of three, sweep floor by floor. Leave no room unchecked!"
"Shoot any orange jumpsuits on sight!"
"Go! Go! Go!"
Epsilon-11("Nine-Tailed Fox") was more militarized than regular security—the frontline against breaches.
Though not the Foundation's elite, they were versatile, stationed at every major site.
The director trusted them—but not blindly. His eyes stayed glued to their progress.
Luo Shu's Dilemma
Meanwhile, Luo Shu racked his brain for an escape.
SCP-055's anti-memetic ability?
Useless.
Marion took W-Class Memory Aids—she'd resist SCP-055's effects.
Even if Luo Shu activated it, making himself unobservable, Marion would still shoot blindly.
To her, uncontainable anti-memes deserved destruction.
He flipped to Page 3 (SCP-3329 - Rainbow Lollipop).
Persuasion?
Only if Marion let him talk.
But she seemed intent on shooting first.
His dark hiding spot was both a blessing and a curse—Marion couldn't see him, but speaking would reveal his location.
A dead end.
Next, Page 2 (SCP-231-7 - Scarlet Bride).
Worthless.
Even if he could activate it, male pregnancy wasn't helpful.
Finally, he returned to Page 1 (SCP-173)—
And froze.