Chapter 12

[Zzzzt. Z--zt. Damn it! Nine Tails Brooks-12 here! The situation at Site *Beep!* isn't looking too good! What the f*ck is *bzzt* happening!]

[Copy.]

[Five sites in a single day. Goddamnit. *Zzzt* ]

[All units at Site *bzzt* nineteen were wiped out!]

[D-Class Personnel have rebelled from what we've heard. They might be outta *bzzzt* here as we speak!* ]

[Site-19 is the least of our worries. No SCP has breached the facilit- *bang!* yet. We'll deal with them after its over!]

[Site *brt* and *bzzt*takes priority! Three damned Keter's ready got lose! Loss o' casualties!]

[Hold your positions as of now! We'll send in minor reinforcements to all Sites!]

[Yessir.]

[F*ck. Bzzzt. ]

The radio crackled with static, as Arjun listened in closely.

The jeep rumbled across the road, and the people inside were tense as the vehicle drove across the rough uneven terrain. Many looked out the window at the countless densely packed trees. From what Jason could recall, they were near Lansing, Michigan. A major city.

"Damn it. Patricia ain't feeling well right now." Benedict spat, peering out the window at the other jeep trailing closely behind them.

"Duh. She got a bullet in the stomach. Nothing pleasant about that." Another D-Class growled, his jumpsuit tattered, and dirty blond hair stained with blood.

Jason aimed his MP7 through the vegetation, lost in thought. This was probably the first true breather they'd had since Heavy Containment. But many of their comrades were not able to witness it with them…..

Putting aside the lead in his heart, Jason grumbled at the soreness in his legs. The MTF would probably not drop by any major forces for now, so it was prime time for them to high-tail their way out of the area with all the chaos going around.

"Who do you think did it? Chaos? GOC? Serpents?" Arjun asked Jason in curiosity.

Most of the D-Class nodded, grumbling. The D-Class knew well of many of the Foundation's anomalous groups of interest. Had to deal with a few on some occasions, and of course, all the rumors that went around.

"Not the GOC. It's in their best interest to keep some of the SCP's under. Serpents? Doubtful. The anomalies would get hunted down immediately after release by the GOC and a few others. Goes against their ideals." Jason paused for a second, checking his magazine "Most likely Chaos… Those guys would do it."

"Yeah. Not many other groups would do it. No point for them, really. Chaos has one of the biggest vendettas." The dirty-blonde from before spoke.

Karlson, Arjun, and Benedict all nodded. Seemed the most plausible.

"Could be an anomaly though. Happened before." Arjun theorized, as the whole group turned into baseless conspiracy theorists. Normal stuff.

"Is it just me, or is this looking kinda...

"Sus."

"....."

"Ehg."

"F*ck you."

"F*ck this sh*t. I want to strangle whoever did this to death."

"It pisses me off, but we wouldn't have been able to pull this off without them."

"True. Still f*ck them."

One Hour Later…..

Heading away from the facility, the D-Boys were headed up North, towards Canada. It was logical after all, as the bulk of the Foundation would be down there dealing with the Breaches.

The drive would be about 9-10 more hours, depending on traffic and such. The group was attempting to stay away from any major highways and go off-road as much as possible to stay secretive.

The D-Class were driving in shifts, letting some people rest a little bit. It was mostly quiet inside of the jeep that Jason was sitting in. Arjun was playing the Foundation Radio, listening in for any intel that could be gathered. Next to him, Karlson, keycard swiper from before, and one of the more intelligent and quick-witted D-Class aboard, was jotting down notes as the jeep continued on.

It semeed that they were not being tracked at the moment, with the Foundation sustaining major casualties against a few Keter's and Euclids, but so far, the "shady-ass organization", had contained a single Keter anomaly.

At the front, the current driver, an middle-aged Japanese-American man named Matsu, was driving.

They had stopped a few times on the way and a few of them had discretely bot some food, dressed up in puffy jackets and such to avoid suspicion. Those orange jumpsuits were extremely vibrant after all.

The situation was at the moment, not bad, as none of the injured had gotten sick or infected by bacteria, and the SCP Foundation seemed too preoccupied with the anomalous to deal with "mere disposables" like them.

One day in the future, Jason swore that he would make them regret calling him and his comrades, disposables. But for now, the guise was good, they needed to get out of the country. From what most of the D-Class were thinking, it would be best to not stay in America any longer. Maybe head off to Asia or Europe.

They would have to cross the border stealthily, as most of them felt it wasn't wise to get into a fight with the Canadian or American border patrol… If they got exposed, so be it. There would be a firefight most likely, but Jason felt like their odds were not too bad. Just had to do something about the orange jumpsuits.

From what the rest of the D-Class strategists thought, they would take a ferry to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and from there, cross Lake Superior in the dead of night via boat, into Canada. From then, they would hightail their way up near Alaska and try to avoid being captured or killed. While the Canadian/USA Border was much closer, it would be more vulnerable to attack and exposure.

When an enemy of the Foundation, an unhealthy amount of paranoia could do one good. They were, after all, a bunch of psychotic trigger-happy zookeepers with too many guns. Could probably crush the D-Boys with ease. If they were to find him and the rest, that is.

He wasn't exactly trying to paint the D-Class as the good guys. It was just a matter of survival, and conflicting morals and beliefs.

Yawning, Jason looked up into the sky. It was late afternoon, and the sun was beginning to fall below the horizon.

They drove on for another few miles, making their way down the old concrete roads, running low on gas.

[GOC stands for Global Occult Coalition.]